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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26289037">Single for the Summer</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dansunedisco/pseuds/dansunedisco'>dansunedisco</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Seasons of Sidlotte [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sanditon (TV 2019), Sanditon - Jane Austen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Antagonism, Background Relationships, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, HEA Compliant, Mileage may vary, Modern Era, Not Nice Sidney, Sidney’s Dicksipline, Summer Vacation, Trope Riddled Summer Read, unrealistic sexpectations</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:53:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>48,300</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26289037</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dansunedisco/pseuds/dansunedisco</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlotte Heywood and Sidney Parker were not friends. In fact, it could be said they really, really didn't like each other.</p><p>Can two weeks on summer holiday change that?</p><p>-</p><p>Or: the 'enemies to friends to lovers' trope rears its mighty head in this modern AU.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Charlotte Heywood/Sidney Parker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Seasons of Sidlotte [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1967020</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1109</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>778</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>'easy breezy summer fic w/ assholes being assholes' was my theme tagline for this story; hence, mileage may vary.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What is he doing here?” Charlotte asked: because there sat none other than Sidney Parker, douchebag extraordinaire. </p><p>Georgiana -- who had expressly denied his presence would be a <em> thing </em>at least five times on their drive to Sanditon and the little seaside cottage Sidney had ‘lent’ them for two weeks -- gave her a grimacing, yet not very apologetic, smile.</p><p>“What am I doing here?” repeated Sidney. A vape pen dangled between his fingers and a billow of sweet-smelling smoke escaped his mouth as he spoke. “This is my home, ergo: what the fuck are <em> you </em>doing here?”</p><p>“Georgiana invited me, thank you very much,” she replied tightly, “but don’t worry -- if you’re staying, I’ll see myself the <em> fuck </em>out.”</p><p>“No one is seeing themselves out!” came Georgiana’s frustrated cry. She pointed at Sidney and said, “I told you I was bringing a friend, and you agreed to play gracious host. Behave.”</p><p>He grunted. “I thought ‘friend’ was codeword for the mysterious Otis.”</p><p>Charlotte crossed her arms, now righteously angry for an altogether different reason beyond his standard rudeness. “And so you laid in wait like some creep to catch Georgiana bring her boyfriend home? Wonderful. So progressive of you.”</p><p>“You’ve found me out. Just a regular old den of toxic masculinity over here.” He twirled a fake mustache like some silent film villain. “Now go on, love, and bring us a drink.”</p><p>“Fuck you.”</p><p>“Not a chance, Heywood.”</p><p>Boiling hot anger flashed up her spine. “You’re such a <em> dick</em>,” she seethed. Turning to Georgiana, she declared, “I can’t stay here. We’ll kill each other.”</p><p>It was a little dramatic -- or a lot dramatic -- but she slung her bag over her shoulder and left out the front door. Almost immediately, she heard the muffled sound of raised voices in argument erupt behind her. </p><p>Stashing her bag in Georgiana’s car, she left for the sandy strand of the beach not far from Sidney’s cottage. She desperately needed to cool her heels. By the time she arrived at the water’s edge, her temper was mollified but deep frustration lingered.</p><p>From the very beginning of their acquaintanceship, Charlotte and Sidney had not gotten along. After mistaking her for the new Parker family nanny -- which, there was absolutely nothing wrong with being a nanny, except for the fact that Parker had made it sound completely <em> beneath </em> him -- and a handful of disparaging remarks exchanged between them, they had jumped quickly from strangers to outright hostile enemies. What was worse -- and honestly unexplainable -- was that Charlotte herself seemed to be the only one to earn his ire. Befriending Georgiana had expanded Charlotte’s social circle. All of them knew Sidney on some level. Beyond acknowledging his sometimes rough exterior and sharp tongue, they always followed it up with a mention of his <em> good heart </em>or some variation thereof. As of yet, Charlotte hadn’t the pleasure of seeing Nice Sidney. And, for some reason, Georgiana was on a never-ending crusade to introduce this alternate universe version to her. Clearly, her tiny deception today hadn’t worked on either party.</p><p>Bad moods did not reside long in idyllic Sanditon, however. Established as a bustling seaside resort in 1819, it had weathered the storm of time and remained a relatively popular vacation destination on the Sussex coast. No doubt this was in part because of the absolutely picturesque scenery. Indeed as Charlotte watched the sparkling blue waves break against the shore, she felt her frustration ebb away. It was a beautifully sunny day. Puffy white clouds drifted above the ocean, lazily inching along the horizon. Gulls and other sea birds circled the sky, chirping at one another as they swept in on unsuspecting beachgoers and their snacks. </p><p>“I thought I’d find you here,” said a familiar voice behind her, and Charlotte turned to give Georgiana a half-hearted frown.</p><p>“It was either come to the beach, or drive off in your car,” she said. “You could’ve told me Sidney would be here, you know.”</p><p>Georgiana sat next to her. “If I did, you wouldn’t’ve come, and don’t bother denying it. You’ve been working your little fingers to the bones all year long and you <em> need </em>this holiday… and, since you’re too proud to let me bankroll you to Ibiza, this was my only option.” She sighed. “I suppose I thought the surprise of seeing him would shock the both of you into silence.”</p><p>“When has it ever?” said Charlotte wryly. She laid her head on Georgiana’s shoulder. “But as long as I have you to hold me back, there won’t be a chance for me to murder him.”</p><p>There was a long silence. </p><p>“About that,” Georgiana said, eventually. Here she did sound apologetic: “While I was searching for you, Otis surprised me. He’s <em> here. </em> He let a room at the Crowne and everything. He said it was ‘high time’ he met Sidney. I <em> swear </em> I didn’t know he was coming.”</p><p>The saga of Otis and Georgiana was peppered with spontaneity, romantic last-minute trips abroad, and loud love declarations. They were disgustingly cute together, but this wasn’t the first time Charlotte had been set aside by her friend. </p><p>“Wow! A surprise. That’s exciting. Is he here for the whole two weeks?” she asked, trying to sound enthused at being relegated to the third-wheel spot.</p><p>“No, just a week, then he’s off to Seattle for another round of-- something or other. I am all yours come next Tuesday, and it’s not like we won’t see one another. I promise.” Georgiana squeezed her arm. “You aren’t mad, are you?”</p><p>Considering the holiday had been planned for the both of them, she <em> was </em>, just a bit, but it seemed the only person she was capable of standing up to was in the cottage she’d now been abandoned to. Mustering up a smile, she said, “No. Not at all. The more the merrier, yeah?”</p><p>Georgiana pressed a messy kiss to Charlotte’s cheek. “Thanks, babe. I swear I will make it up to you.” </p><p>After agreeing on vague plans to meet for dinner, they parted ways: Georgiana to Otis, and Charlotte to the beach. </p><p>Reluctant to head back to the cottage -- and Sidney -- Charlotte decided to continue her walk.</p><p>The wind clipping off the water was bracing and fresh. Before she knew it, she’d made it a fair way down the beach. The village itself was a vague distance back, and a rocky cliffside began to rise to her left. On the very top of the hill beyond sat the old church. Tomorrow, she thought, if the weather continued on like it was today, she’d come for a swim and lie out with a book; and the day after, she’d attempt the climb up the hill to visit Sanditon’s oldest standing place of worship. Even without Georgiana at her side, she vowed to have fun.</p><p>Something along the cliffs caught her attention then. Shielding her eyes, she tipped her head back to look. It did not take long to suss out what it was -- nor<em> who </em> it was -- but the<em> why </em>punched a sharp gasp from her.</p><p>Sidney Parker was traipsing along the rocky cliffs. He was shirtless, and clad in swim trunks; he moved swiftly along the ridge, and she saw the strength of the wind as it caught his shorts and threatened to drag him down.</p><p>Charlotte’s mind whirled. Had he accidentally dropped something? Not even he would be so materialistic and foolhardy to shuffle down there. Right? Before she could call out and ask, or warn him of the dangerous rocks below, he turned out and stood facing the ocean. Sunlight hit him so just, illuminating the hard-cut planes of his muscles. She was far enough away she could not make out his exact expression, but the uninvited thought of his resemblance to a Greek statue trickled through. He really was terribly handsome… not that she would ever speak this truth aloud.</p><p>Then, without quite believing what she was seeing, she watched him leap off the edge and into certain death.</p><p>She cried out, and he half-turned in mid-air, clearly as surprised to see her there as she was to see him. He disappeared from view -- the cliff jutted out and obscured her line of sight -- and she rushed up and over the rocky slope before her.</p><p>Where she expected to find him dashed against the rocks, however, was a long stretch of gentle water. Gaze searching, she saw only the bubbling churn of his dive. She called out his name, voice trembling.</p><p>A heartbeat later, Sidney’s head burst through the surface.</p><p>Realizing that she hadn’t watched her best friend’s pseudo-brother die, she did what she always did when Sidney did something awful: she lashed out.</p><p>“What the<em> hell</em>, Parker!” she yelled at him. Logically, she knew her reaction was out of pocket, but she couldn’t help but continue on as they normally did: antagonistically.</p><p>He swam up to the ledge below and pulled himself up with practiced ease. Water sluiced down his near-perfect body. He raked his hand through his hair, sending saltwater flying and leaving his fringe spiked boyishly. “Are you trying to kill me, Heywood?” he growled, fixing her with his trademark look of deep disapproval.</p><p>“Hardly! I thought you were--” she choked up. To her horror, a few tears slipped down her cheeks. The rush of adrenaline had left her shaky and unsure.</p><p>Clearly put off by her display of emotion, he scoffed. “Ah, she cries for me. Don’t worry yourself on my account,” he said, not kindly, “I’ve been cliff jumping in this exact spot since I could walk.”</p><p>How could she have known he was jumping for fun? She knew next to nothing about him, but she did not bother reiterating this. Any worry or fear she’d felt on his behalf was long gone. “I wasn’t worried,” she replied tartly. “I was overcome with <em> hope</em>.”</p><p>His glare transformed into one of icy amusement. He moved up the rocks nimbly, and she suspected he only came close to her so that he could tower over her. She half-expected him to flick water in her direction, the petty bastard that he was, but he did not.</p><p>“Sorry to say you won’t be rid of me so easily,” he said. More conversationally, as if they were simply chatting about the weather, he continued on, “Georgiana tells me we’re to be trapped together for two whole weeks.”</p><p>“I can leave,” she replied. She very well could, and, for her sanity’s sake, perhaps she really should. But, looking up at Sidney’s smug face and rightly judging his bad attitude as him wanting to put her off Sanditon altogether, her stubbornness dug its claws in. Unless he was going to literally throw her out of his home, there was no way she was leaving until she had two weeks’ worth of sunshine and sea breeze. “But I guess neither of us will be getting what we want.”</p><p>With a heated look, he said, “I very much doubt that.”</p><p>Before she could ask him what he meant, he brushed past her, and she watched him leave from the way she'd came with growing trepidation.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you so much for reading! this is quite a bit different than what i normally write, huh?</p><p>-</p><p>as a note: i have not forgotten about Unstoppable, but the wordcount per chapter has been steadily going up on that story and this is just a bit of quick fun as i finish that up :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Later that same evening, Charlotte met Georgiana and Otis for dinner as promised. The restaurant was cozy and busy. Tucked at the very end of the promenade, it could very well have been forgotten, but <em> Clara’s </em> was well-known and well-loved by tourists and locals alike.</p><p>“He did <em> not</em>,” said Georgiana, after Charlotte regaled them with her story of Sidney the Cliffjumper and their exchange upon the rocky outcrop.</p><p>Charlotte dropped her voice in an imitation of her nemesis and said, “You better sleep with one eye open, Heywood!”</p><p>Otis shook his head. “Sounds to me like he’s pulling your pigtails.”</p><p>“Absolutely not,” Charlotte said. “For one, we’re in the modern era and little girls ought <em> not </em>to be told little boys pushing them about means they like them; and two -- well, I would rather eat glass than kiss Sidney Parker.”</p><p>Georgiana and Otis shared a look. It said, very loudly, that the lady doth protest too much.</p><p>“As much as it disgusts me to say this, Sidney <em> is </em>handsome,” said Georgiana.</p><p>“A fine specimen indeed,” agreed Otis, the traitor.</p><p>“If you just gave him a chance--”</p><p>“I don’t care how rich and modelesque he is,” Charlotte cut in, because she really couldn’t care about her partner’s looks or wealth if their personality was intolerable. “Some people aren’t meant to get along. It’s <em> fine. </em> We’re both adults. I’m sure he won’t even notice I’m at the cottage, nor I him.”</p><p>Her damning words followed her all the way back to Sidney’s. The evening had chilled considerably and, by the time she realized Georgiana’s car was no longer parked on the drive, it was already too late and cold to head back into town to retrieve her things. After sending a text to Georgiana to ask her to swing by, she proceeded gamely on.</p><p>A yellow square of light in the front window illuminated her way up the steps, and, trying the doorknob, she found it unlocked.</p><p>The cottage was only slightly younger than Sanditon itself. According to Georgiana, Seabreeze had been in the Parker family for generations. Refurbished and updated throughout the years, it balanced the charm of history and ease of modern conveniences. At first, she tiptoed in, trying to be considerate -- <em> she </em>would take the high road -- but it was clear Sidney was not yet abed. Faint, indistinct music was playing inside.</p><p>Ears perked, she followed the sound. The main hallway led into what would have been the original drawing room of the cottage. At one point in time, a Parker had opened the wall and installed large doors as well as a sea-facing terrace, and this was where she found Sidney.</p><p>Still shirtless and wearing the same swim trunks as before, he lounged in a beach chair. A cigarette, cherry burning brightly against the purple-orange sunset, was between his lips. Blue smoke curled up around him, not yet caught by the wind.</p><p>The bottle of pinot must have addled Charlotte’s brain enough for her to begrudgingly acknowledge both Otis and Georgiana were correct: Sidney Parker was, in every way, shape, and form, an absolute specimen.</p><p>Leaned against the doorframe, she drank him in silently. There was no denying he was attractive. Dark hair, dark eyes, full lips -- and bone structure that had undoubtedly stirred grievous envy in others -- it was really too bad he was a Level 5 Asshole. Remembering the heat in his eyes as he’d glared down at her earlier, she briefly entertained a different context; an intensity for a different reason altogether.</p><p>As if sensing Charlotte’s thoughts, Sidney shifted forward. Plucking the cigarette from his mouth, he scraped the lit end against the deck. Tracks of ash marred the otherwise pristine wood. She idly wondered how often Sidney Parker found himself smoking contemplatively, smoldering gaze upon the sea, in that chair.</p><p>“Done enough ogling?” he asked.</p><p>She rolled her eyes. Instead of heading to her room, she plopped down in the beach chair next to him. Her nature was not that of a vindictive person, but seeing his annoyance at her doing so brought her sarcasm out full bore. “Go on, then. Don’t let me stop your moody brooding,” she said. She brought a fist under her chin and pouted. “I’m Sidney Parker, and my life is <em> so </em>hard.”</p><p>To her surprise, he did not immediately remove himself -- or try to shove her over the railing into the sand below. Instead, he drew out another cigarette; after lighting it with an expert hand, he took a long drag and sat back with a sigh. “Here I go,” he said solemnly, staring fast into the long distance. “Another day where I contemplate what kind of heinous shit I did in my past life to deserve constant pestering by one very, very annoying Charlotte Heywood.”</p><p>“Har har,” she drawled. “If anyone is pestered by anyone in this twosome, it’s <em> me, </em>by you.”</p><p>He arched his eyebrow. “Twosome. What a choice word, Heywood. Are you trying to--?”</p><p>“As if,” she said, blushing and hating herself for it. “Don’t be deliberately obtuse <em> and </em>gross. It’s unbecoming for a man of your advanced age.”</p><p>Stabbing at his vanity did the trick, and he settled down. “Advanced age, my arse. You’re, what, six years my junior?”</p><p>Exactly right, actually. Narrowing her eyes, she said, “Something like that.”</p><p>“Not that one can tell, of course,” he said graciously. And, right as she was about to thank him for the not-so-subtle compliment, he tacked on, “But I really ought to give you the name of my dermatologist before those sunspots settle in.”</p><p>“These are freckles, and I know you know these are freckles,” she said, indignant and now a little self-conscious. “Jerk.”</p><p>His smirk was back. “Is that the best you can do, Heywood?”</p><p>She leaned in deliberately slowly, and watched with satisfaction as he grew visibly uncomfortable with the invasion of his space. His smirk soon dropped away entirely, replaced with a familiar wariness. Up close, it was impossible to ignore how long his eyelashes were or the dusting of stubble on his perfect jaw.</p><p>“You know it’s not,” she said, letting the words hang between them. If anyone were watching them, she was sure they would have expected them to kiss -- but this was no lover’s lean.</p><p>She drew sharply away and stood. “Good night, Parker.”</p><p>“Bad dreams,” he said to her retreating back, but the shot was poorly placed and glanced off without effect.</p><p>Charlotte had won this round. But the round of what, exactly, she wasn’t yet sure.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>A sliver of pale light peeking through the curtains woke Charlotte the next morning. </p><p>Yawning, she stretched deeply, and found she’d slept better than she had in a very long time. Despite the strange end to her night with Sidney, the cottage felt warm and welcoming; and, better yet, she’d found that her bag had must have been unloaded during Georgiana and Sidney’s fight, for it had been placed in the guest rooms when she’d gone in search of a place to sleep. After a quick evening routine, she’d changed into her nightclothes and crawled under the covers. The mattress was exactly right; and, having left a tiny crack in the window, she’d been lulled into a deep slumber by the relaxing sounds of the ocean.</p><p>She was reluctant to leave the bed and its comfort now, but excitement to start her day of swimming and reading won out in the end.</p><p>Sidney, unfairly bright-eyed and unrumpled, found her in the kitchen. Like a jerk, he grabbed her cup of tea off the counter and took a sip.</p><p>“Really?” she asked flatly.</p><p>“Really, Lucrezia,” he replied. “Away! Thou'rt poison to my blood.”</p><p>She fixed him with a mild smile. “Good job. Did you stay up all night Googling ‘Shakespeare poison quotes’ and ‘famous women + poison’?”</p><p>“I barely slept.”</p><p>“Figures,” she said, and tried her best to ignore him as she packed her lunch in an old wicker basket she’d found in the pantry. The forecast promised another gorgeous day for Sanditon, and she wanted to be the first to stick her umbrella in the choicest part of the beach. The number of cars driving in with Georgiana and her yesterday promised a very busy weekend.</p><p>“Going to the beach?” he asked. Again, he helped himself; after flipping through the terry cloth covering of the basket, he popped a freshly-washed grape in his mouth.</p><p>“Obviously,” she replied, and shut the basket lid on his sticky fingers with a pointed glare. “And stop pilfering!”</p><p>“The least you can do for my hospitality is feed me,” he said, “considering this <em> is </em>my fancy cheese you’re nibbling on -- and, no, this is not a ‘woman in the kitchen’ jab, so don’t even start on me.”</p><p>“You’re learning,” she remarked with exaggerated astonishment. “By God, the monster may yet be man.”</p><p>“Hilarious.”</p><p>“I know. And very reasonable, too. I’ll make us dinner tonight,” she offered. Her plan was to swing by the local shop after the beach anyway, and it would be no trouble to buy a portion more. “Belladonna-free, if you play your cards right.”</p><p>He made a show of sending off a text message. “There. Now at least three separate witnesses will attest to the fact that I will require a toxicology screening if found deceased.”</p><p>“Let the record show that I have noted ‘no poison’ and thus have been forced to find alternate means with which to end your life,” she said, but her words were rather undercut by the not-so-intimidating cheese knife in her hand. Innocently, she asked, “Any allergies?”</p><p>“Cleverly done, but I’m onto you,” he said, and nabbed the slice of cheese she’d recently cut. “The entire world, including the rock you apparently think I reside under, saw ‘Parasite’.”</p><p>She snapped her fingers in faux-consternation but did not feed further into the banter. Food wouldn’t fix itself.</p><p>Sidney alternated between scrolling on his phone, drinking Charlotte’s appropriated tea, and giving her instructions on the proper assemblage of a sandwich. </p><p>He annoyed her so thoroughly during the course she relented in making his preferred style of sandwich, if only to earn a reprieve from his snarky comments, but he could not be banished entirely. </p><p>Surely this was payback for their mild tête-à-tête last night.</p><p>“Seabreeze has a private beach,” he said, once all that was left of his food was crumbs.</p><p>She waited patiently for the inevitable follow-on that she’d never be allowed near it, but it did not come. </p><p>Instead, she found herself following him down well-worn stone steps that curved around the hillside toward the water. Along the way, they passed an ancient-looking sign that named the location Mary’s Beach.</p><p>“Very nice,” she remarked once they reached the bottom. It was indeed a pretty little beach, more rocky than sandy in this particular spot, but altogether very pleasant. Still, she knew she would not want to stay down here all alone, even if Sidney offered. She did not mind solitude, but she did not need a fresh reminder that she’d been flaked on. As sad as it was, at least she could pretend she had friends among the beachgoers. “Really beautiful.”</p><p>“Apparently the stairway is as old as the cottage,” Sidney said, a hint of pride in his voice. “We’ve had to shore up the stones over the years, but it’s solid.”</p><p>“Sidney Parker, laboring? I can’t picture it.”</p><p>“The abs would argue otherwise.”</p><p>“Instead of throwing up right here and now,” she said tartly, “I’ll count myself lucky that I’m with you, shielding the rest of womankind from your insufferable boasting.”</p><p>“Just womankind?”</p><p>A little thrown by the comment, she inclined her chin. “Womankind, mankind; sentient beings and otherwise.”</p><p>“Indeed the pebbles are my only friends,” he agreed. “Much like how Georgiana is yours, I’d say.”</p><p>And just like that, their back-and-forth stumbled into familiar territory. </p><p>This time, his comment<em> hurt</em>. Without even trying, he’d ripped the scab off the wound that had started off her holiday. No one in her life had ever riled her up as quickly as Sidney Parker. It was almost like he’d been born to do it, knowing instinctively which buttons to push and when.</p><p>Anger crackled under her skin, and she fought the urge to shove him bodily into the water. “What a classic zinger, Parker. Charlotte Heywood, the clinger-on.”</p><p>“Whoa.” Hands up placatingly, he said, “I’m on your side, Heywood. This time, at least. I’m not blind. I know Gigi abandoned you for Otis.”</p><p><em> Oh</em>, she thought. He wasn’t deliberately antagonizing her. No -- he felt <em> sorry </em>for her. She didn’t know which was worse. </p><p>“She didn’t ‘abandon me’,” she gritted out. Alarm bells ringing, Charlotte’s better sense told her to ascend the steps and leave him be; to go to the beach before she said or did something she couldn’t take back. By all accounts, this was the longest stretch of time she and Sidney had spent together, and there was no telling the outcome if they persisted.</p><p>“From my perspective she did,” he said, “and you didn’t even try to fight her on it. Did you?”</p><p>Unable to tear herself away from the fight, she asked, “Why do you care?”</p><p>“I don’t care,” he replied. “I’m just wondering why you’ve a backbone with me, and none with anyone else whatsoever.”</p><p>That answer, at least, gelled with everything that encapsulated the Heywood-Parker antagonism, and Charlotte was not yet ready to cede ground. Thinking on her feet, she found the most juvenile -- and satisfying -- way to fight back.</p><p>Reaching down, she swiped a handful of water at him. It pulled the desired reaction in the form of a stunned yelp. </p><p>Sidney did not remain frozen for long, however, and before she knew it, they were exchanging vicious splashes of cold water and chasing after one on the precariously pebbly beach.</p><p>It almost bordered on genuine fun, if Charlotte were honest -- as much as they butted heads, she’d never felt fear with him -- but it turned into something less fun and something altogether different when he finally caught her by the waist.</p><p>Though their clothes were soaked with saltwater, Sidney’s front was burning hot against her back. He held her tight to him, his chest heaving from exertion. She struggled feebly in the circle of his arms. </p><p>What was wrong with her? The picture of him standing on the cliffs was scorched in her mind’s eye now, and she cursed Georgiana and Otis for poisoning her mind further.</p><p>“Truce,” he panted. “Truce, dammit.”</p><p>“Alright, alright, I relent,” she said, voice wobbling, but still Sidney did not immediately let her go. One palm was pressed against her stomach, the other just below her breasts. It felt almost… </p><p>A traitorous voice whispering in the back of her mind told her it would be so easy to twist around and--</p><p>Remembering his smug comment about his body -- and the thought that he was correctly guessing Charlotte was overcome by being held against it -- she moved to break free of him. Without a word, she started back up the steps of Mary’s Beach.</p><p>“Don’t forget my dinner,” Sidney called after her, and Charlotte’s heart fell once she realized he’d solidly won the second round of whatever game they were now playing.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>By the time Charlotte reached Donkey Beach, the unavoidable had happened. </p><p>The forecast promised a beautiful day, and Sanditon had delivered. The sun was deliciously hot, the wind gentle, and these two factors drew both locals and tourists to the water. Beach blankets and umbrellas crowded the sand in lawless disorder. Pop music blasted from speakers. Children chased after one another. Seabirds circled overhead.</p><p>Cursing Sidney and their distracting -- and time-wasting -- jaunt down to Mary’s Beach, Charlotte hauled her things much further down the strand than she’d have preferred. A group of footballers were kicking a ball about, and it was only her quick reflexes and the wicker basket that saved her from a faceful of sandy football as the kicker misplaced his strike and launched it directly at her.</p><p><em> This would be my rotten luck</em>, she thought.</p><p>“Watch it, Fred!” one of the footballers cried out to the offending kicker, and he jogged forward to collect the ball. To Charlotte he said, “Sorry, miss-- are you alright?"</p><p>“No harm done,” she said with a nod. The footballer was cute, and fit; light brown hair and a friendly smile. Just as the thought took form, her perfidious mind decided to remind her that she thought Sidney was cuter and fitter. Annoyed at herself, she rapidly shoved this thought deep and away.</p><p>“Alright, if you’re sure,” he replied shyly. He shuffled the ball between his hands for a moment, then asked, “Want to join us? Can’t help but notice you’re… well. Alone. Unless someone is meeting you? I’m, um, James, by the way. James Stringer.”</p><p>“Charlotte,” she replied, a little surprised by the offer; but then, why should she be? The rambling speech was, again, very cute… and accurate. Plus, James and his friends seemed nice. A mix of both men and women were standing about behind them, some of them obviously rooting for James to snag her into their game -- or perhaps something else. There was no harm to it.</p><p>With Sidney’s declaration that Georgiana was her only friend ringing in her mind, she agreed to play.</p><p>Having grown up with several older brothers and very competitive younger sisters, Charlotte was a proficient addition to the team. Though playing on the sand was different than the grassy meadows of Willingden, she was unafraid of diving and tackling, and she could see she’d made an impression on James with her efforts as they emerged victorious.</p><p>“You’re something else,” he said with a laugh, dabbing at his sweaty face with a nearby towel. “I haven’t been put through my paces like this since, well, possibly forever.”</p><p>“Hey!” came Fred’s indignant cry.</p><p>Charlotte only laughed, and begged off for the rest and relaxation she’d had in mind since the morning.</p><p>“Could I-- d’you think I could see you tonight?” asked James. He ducked his chin down, as if he were embarrassed to be asking. “We usually go to the pub for a few drinks on days like this.”</p><p>“That sounds lovely,” she replied, but remembering her promised dinner with Sidney, regretfully continued, “But I already have plans with a friend. Maybe another time?”</p><p>They exchanged numbers with easy smiles, and Charlotte waved to her newfound teammates as she returned to her own little spot on the beach, spirits rather more lifted than they were earlier in the day. James Stringer was cute. And, unless she was reading the signs wrong, he thought she was, too. It felt nice. Easy.</p><p>She sent Georgiana a text about the encounter and quickly received an animated gif in response.</p><p><em> i need details ASAP drinks later??? </em>wrote Georgiana.</p><p>Thinking better of feeding into Georgiana’s strange obsession with her and Sidney, she told her friend to enjoy Otis’ company instead of confessing to their ‘dinner date’. She tacked on: <em> Let’s do breakfast tomorrow. Your pick &amp; my treat </em></p><p>A row of kissy face emojis was the reply.</p><p>The rest of the afternoon passed in a blaze of heat, her mind swept away with a beachy summer read. When it became too hot, she’d dip into the freezing cold water; and, after a quick dry-off, she’d reapply a healthy layer of sunscreen.</p><p>At some point, she waved to James Stringer and his group as they packed up to leave, and quickly realized she ought to do the same. The Peposo needed at least four hours, and she was veering dangerously close to a midnight meal if she tarried any longer.</p><p>She walked back up the strand with James. As they chatted, she discovered his family, much like the Parkers, had also been a cornerstone in the establishment of Sanditon. </p><p>“I’m actually named after my great, great, great-grandfather: another James Stringer, incidentally. He was the foreman who rebuilt the town after the summer fire of 1819, and afterwards went off to London to become a famous architect,” he explained, just as proud as Sidney had been talking about the step-stones of Mary’s Beach.</p><p>“And what do you do, James Stringer of the future?” she asked.</p><p>A noticeable blush grew on his cheeks. “Architect, believe it or not. I swear I didn’t know until my Granny told me when I’d declared for uni.”</p><p>With a laugh, she said, “History really does repeat itself.”</p><p>They reached the road now, and they parted ways with easy, friendly goodbyes.</p><p>After stopping in the shops and buying what she needed, Charlotte continued on to Sidney’s cottage.</p><p>The door was locked when she arrived, but she’d been given a key to use. After a quick tour of Seabreeze, she realized she was alone. Sidney’s Aston Martin was gone from the side garage as well, so there was no saying where he’d swanned off to. </p><p>She dove into cooking anyway, trying to wash away the frustration that seemed to come all too naturally when thinking of Sidney. For once, however, it wasn’t his fault: while she’d offered him dinner, they’d never agreed on a time -- and she did not have his number saved to ask him where he was, or when he’d return.</p><p>After putting on her jazzy playlist from Spotify and pouring herself a glass of the Chianti that hadn’t made it in the pot, she suddenly felt completely at home. Growing up in a noisy household, she could appreciate both solitude and silence.</p><p>The open terrace doors and the gentle sounds of the ocean added to the effect, and the lovely view of the vista drew her outside. Blue ocean stretched out as far as the eye could see, vast and beautiful and dangerous.</p><p>There was something about Sanditon that plucked at her soul. Granted, she hadn’t been much elsewhere, but her first summer here had been as magical as the ones that had come after. It was where she’d met Georgiana, and the Parker family -- namely Arthur and Diana, the brother-sister duo who continued to manage the trust of historical Sanditon itself -- and learned that the world was much larger than the tiny village she’d grown up in, if only because Sanditon’s denizens had seemed larger than life back then. </p><p>Perhaps it was youthful nostalgia, but she thought she could live here forever and be perfectly content.</p><p>With twenty minutes left to spare on the short ribs, she began preparing the sweet potato gnocchi and the butter sauce that’d go with it; it was a hearty meal, but after exerting herself on the beach, she was deliriously ready to tuck into it.</p><p>As if summoned by some phantom dinner bell and the promise of food, the loud rumble of a too-fast engine broke the tranquility of the night.</p><p>Seconds later, the front door was opened, and Sidney was upon her.</p><p>“Smells damned good,” he remarked, opening the lid of the Peposo to take a deep and uninvited sniff. “I’m surprised, Heywood. I figured you’d’ve picked up some crisps and told me to starve.”</p><p>“Now that’s an idea I wish I’d come by on my own,” she said wryly. Looking as he wafted another handful of scent to his nose, Charlotte wondered if Sidney had ever asked for permission before he did something in his life, or if he simply went about life doing and taking, consequences be damned. “Where the hell did that Belladonna go?”</p><p>“Ha, ha.”</p><p>“Where did you go off to today?” she asked, stabbing her fork into the beef since the lid was already removed. It went in without resistance, perfectly tender.</p><p>“Had some meetings,” he replied vaguely. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top of his shirt. Tonight, he was wearing a well-tailored suit; a sharp contrast to the pastel-colored shorts, cashmere sweaters, and boat shoes of the past two days. Seeing Sidney in his true form -- investment banker, probably; and very much in league with the devil -- made Charlotte wonder why he’d chosen to spend a part of his holiday in Sanditon, of all places. Every thread on him looked ridiculously expensive. Surely he had the means to jet set to a place more glamorous than his tiny hometown.</p><p>“And how is Lucifer doing?” she asked innocently.</p><p>“Very well, as I’m sure you already know… considering you are his original Mistress of Darkness and Evil,” he replied, but the gnocchi started to float to the top of the boiling water and Charlotte fell back into the rhythm of cooking without a proper retort.</p><p>After plating the Peposo atop the sweet potato gnocchi, she garnished the dish with enough fresh Parmigiano Reggiano to take a grown man down. The finishing touch was a sprig of fresh rosemary.</p><p>Charlotte stood back to admire her many hours of work, ridiculously pleased with herself. She was a great chef -- thanks to Grandma Heywood and a single summer spent in Italy -- but she was often too busy to indulge in making dishes that took longer than thirty minutes. She wanted to point her finger in Sidney’s face and gloat, but she decided to wait until he’d had a forkful.</p><p>The night wind was so calm they wordlessly agreed to eat on the terrace, taking plates, utensils and wine along the way. </p><p>The Peposo was as good as Charlotte had hoped it would be; a perfect mix of savory from the meat and pepper balanced by the delicate sweetness of the gnocchi. The opened and aerated bottle of Chianti paired well with the dish. </p><p>They ate in silence, and Charlotte’s grin grew when Sidney’s apparent resolve to remain stoic in the face of a damned good meal broke.</p><p>“Fuck,” he breathed, and she pointed her fork in his direction with a, “Ha! You thought I couldn’t cook, didn’t you?”</p><p>“I begrudgingly admit there’s a box salad waiting for me on the counter,” he admitted gruffly. “But your Faustian bargain was well worth it, Heywood.”</p><p>“There’s nothing unnatural about my skill,” she replied, still weirdly pleased to watch him clear his plate like a starving man.</p><p>He left the terrace with a vague comment about second helpings. When he returned, he’d brought with him another uncorked bottle of wine.</p><p>“Rough day?” she asked. She finished the rest of her glass. </p><p>“You’ve no idea,” he replied, and quickly rinsed both their glasses out with water. He tossed the watery remnants over his shoulder like an old hand, and proceeded to pour anew. “I was plagued all afternoon with the knowledge we’d be required to spend the evening together.”</p><p>Rolling her eyes, she said, “Requirement? Hardly. You’re free to go anytime. Don’t think you need to pity me with your oh-so-charming presence.”</p><p>“Don’t I? You’re on holiday alone like some sad divorcee in a Hallmark movie. Any second now, I expect you to wrap a shawl about your shoulders and stare forlornly at the sunset.”</p><p>She considered telling him she’d indeed met a potential love interest in cute James Stringer, but that would only add fuel to the fire of his comparison. “You’re just as sad and alone as me,” she said instead, gesturing at Seabreeze. Which, as far as she knew, had probably only ever known his one night stands. “You can borrow the shawl after I’m done with it.”</p><p>“You know, Heywood, you’re kind of a--”</p><p>“A what, Parker?” Immediately on the defensive, she was chomping at the bit for him to label her with some misogynistic bullshit. Her fingers tightened around the stem of her wine glass. <em> Say it</em>, she dared him. <em> Say the word. </em></p><p>“A perfectly pleasant dinner partner,” he replied amicably, but his trademark sneer was back, and it was all too clear what he really wanted to call her. Changing the topic, he made a vague sweeping gesture and said, “I never pegged you for a jazz girl.”</p><p>“How can you face me now?” she sang along -- poorly -- with Fats Waller. She took a sip of her drink. “I have layers.”</p><p>“Like an onion,” he agreed, and continued the next verse with a much more pleasant singing voice: “Woman, have you no conscience / How could you be so bold? / Why have you grown so cold / After the lies you told?”</p><p>Eyebrows raised, she gave him a golf clap. “Something tells me you were the most popular baritone in Cambridge.”</p><p>“<em>Tenor</em>, thank you -- and I didn’t go to Cambridge,” he said. “Which you’d know, if you’d ever bother looking me up.”</p><p>“Have a whole Wikipedia page, do you? The pretentiousness grows by the hour.”</p><p>“Pretentious?” he scoffed. “Hardly.”</p><p>“Indeed I’m afraid I’ve had your type pegged from the very beginning,” she said, “no Googling required.”</p><p>“You don’t know a damned thing about me,” he said, with real heat this time.</p><p>Charlotte sat back wordlessly, blinking out of the stupor of wine and their back-and-forth. It was like coming up for air. Already she could tell she’d had a little too much to drink.</p><p>“You can’t seriously expect me to learn about you from the internet,” she said slowly, wondering what button of <em> his </em>she’d pressed just then. “I understand you’re basically an unsocialized man-child, but…”</p><p>Silence hung between them for a long moment. </p><p>Sarah Vaughan began to croon now, loving him in rain or shine, and the already short distance between them seemed to shrink; the air turned intimate, and too warm. Charlotte felt her cheeks heating. What the hell was wrong with her?</p><p>Sidney fixed her with that heated, smoldering gaze of his, and not for the first time, she wondered what, precisely, he was thinking about as he looked at her. Was he getting ready to throttle her? Or--</p><p>He stood, and offered her his hand. Looking dubiously uncomfortable as he did so, he said, “Dance with me, Heywood. Let’s get this Hallmark moment over with.”</p><p>She had no idea what he meant by that. The whiplash was too much to wrap her head around, the hot and cold of it all, but she joined him anyway; her natural goodness yielding to the desire to not be rude, even now.</p><p>Without preamble, Sidney held her to him. The vivid memory of their splash-fight in the cove came to mind. “Pretend you tolerate me,” he said, voice low.</p><p>They swayed together silently; him in his suit, her in her shorts and t-shirt. If he’d meant to unbalance her, he was succeeding.</p><p>It was disgustingly romantic, far too domestic, and she hated every minute of it.</p><p>Didn’t she?</p><p>Glancing up, she saw he was already looking down at her unabashedly. “What?” she asked him, fully self-conscious now. Despite the generous application of sunscreen throughout the day, the dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose had returned.</p><p>His eyebrows were furrowed together. A tiny crease between them marred the perfection, but seeing the tiny crack in his armor only made him more handsome. </p><p>God, was she really that shallow? </p><p>That third glass of Chianti was muddying her judgment.</p><p>The corner of his mouth lifted. “Can’t you just enjoy the moment, Heywood? Do you always have to open your mouth and bark out whatever’s on your mind?”</p><p>“I can’t enjoy anything when I’m this close to you,” she said, but he didn’t let her budge. “It’s that sulphuric smell, I think. What is it? Tom Ford’s Satan in a Suit?”</p><p>He chuckled. “Better than your Eau de Seaweed and Sweat.”</p><p>“You’re the worst,” she said, hating herself for laughing a little at his comeback. “I literally cannot stand you.”</p><p>“I know, Heywood,” he said. His hands were warm. Sarah Vaughan’s Tenderly played softly around them. “I know you do.”</p><p>If Sidney Parker were any other man, Charlotte would have been completely and utterly seduced. Luckily, she knew he’d never, ever have such nefarious designs on her virtue; surely he felt the exact same way about her. That was what she told herself as she fully leaned into their moment of pretend and laid her cheek against his chest. He smelled very good, actually; like expensive cologne, clean laundry, and a hint of saltwater.</p><p>“Come cliff jumping with me tomorrow.” He was whispering now, like he couldn’t hold back the words but truly didn’t want her to hear him. “You can push me off, if you’d like.”</p><p>She could feel his heart pounding.</p><p>Hers was racing, too.</p><p>“Okay,” she agreed, in a voice just as quiet as his. “If only to continue the current theme. Shall I bring my shawl there, as well?”</p><p>“Of course,” he said. “Dramatic shot: shawl fluttering off into the ocean as Sad Divorcee discovers happiness at long last.”</p><p>“As a strong, independent woman,” she insisted, as if he were truly going to produce the movie of her life.</p><p>“Right,” he agreed. “It wouldn’t read otherwise.”</p><p>Finally, mercifully, the playlist reached its end, and they broke apart. The magic of good food, good wine and good music had weaved some kind of spell that left them both strangely wobbly, and they went opposite ways.</p><p>Sidney, having offered to clean the kitchen earlier, went to do so.</p><p>Charlotte, for her part, practically ran to her room. She needed to get away from him before she did something very, very stupid.</p><p>After another quick evening routine, she crawled into bed. </p><p>Her head spun, and any little noise or creak outside her door made her heart jump.</p><p>It was clear, even if she wanted to deny it: she’d have to eat glass and then some, because she was wondering what a good round of hate-sex with Sidney Parker would be like. He was still a massive dick, but… <em> did </em>he have a massive dick?</p><p>Tipsy Charlotte was unbelievable.</p><p>She grabbed a pillow and shoved it over her face. Letting out a loud, self-hating groan, she vowed never to drink again. </p><p>The answer to her problems was all too clear, and came as she checked her phone.</p><p>Several hours back, James Stringer had texted her: <em> Hi Charlotte, this is James. Drinks tomorrow? Unless you have another friend to meet. </em></p><p>Good grammar, no emojis, a callback to their earlier conversation. Easy. Nice. Exactly what she needed.</p><p>Tomorrow, she’d text James Stringer back and wash Sidney Parker right out of her hair.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i know, i know; charlotte is living in the land of denial.</p><p>eventually, we will get an answer as to why she is the way she is -- and why sidney is the way he is. :)</p><p>also, for anyone worrying about stringer's sudden &amp; sandy appearance: i promise this is 100% a sidlotte story</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Georgiana was already at the cafe when Charlotte arrived the next morning. They greeted one another with cheesy air kisses and linked arms before proceeding inside. It was early enough they’d beaten the coffee crush, and they were able to order right away.</p><p>“Alright there, beach babe,” Georgiana said, eyebrows waggling, as they secured the best table in the house: a rickety little thing on the cobblestones outside that faced a side alley with a direct view of the ocean.</p><p>“I am hardly a ‘beach babe’,” she said. She was sure it was her football prowess -- and not her bikini -- that had enticed James Stringer. He seemed the type of guy to covet a sporty gal. “Is Otis going to join us, or…?”</p><p>“Nope. He’s asleep,” was the reply, and full enough of innuendo that Charlotte easily got the picture as to why.</p><p>“Ah, well. That’s one of us,” she said.</p><p>Last night was a trial in sexual frustration. In the light of the morning, however, she couldn’t help but be mortified by the subject of her dreams. It was a clear sign that her love life was drier than the desert. So much so that her subconscious was forced to conjure the nearest living, breathing person… who just happened to be Sidney Parker, the bane of her existence. That was all it was.</p><p>“Not for long, by the sounds of it,” replied Georgiana, and Charlotte gave a slight jerk until she remembered her friend was not at all talking about Sidney. “Alright, <em> dish</em>. Spill. Let me live vicariously through your random beach-y hook-ups.”</p><p>After dutifully recounting her meeting with James on the beach and his text last night, she said, “I messaged him back this morning. We’re, um, going to meet up for drinks tonight.”</p><p>Georgiana gave a fist pump. “Yes, babe! I’m so proud of you.”</p><p>“It’s not a big deal,” she said, but Georgiana’s enthusiasm was notoriously infectious, and she had to admit she <em> was </em>excited about the prospect of a proper date with a proper nice guy. </p><p>Her last relationship could be characterized completely by the word: disaster. As such, it had been far, far too long since she’d interacted with another human male with the idea of ‘something more’ happening afterward. </p><p>Sidney, she reminded herself firmly, did <em> not </em>count.</p><p>“Whatever you say,” continued Georgiana. “Either way, I’ll be waiting with bated breath for the after action report.”</p><p>“Don’t get your hopes up. I’m heading into this endeavor with ‘super casual’ in mind. For all I know, his football mates will be joining us.”</p><p>“You’re no fun,” Georgiana pouted, but she would not be deterred for long: “Oh, I know what can spice this up. Let’s go dancing! It’s been about forever since we’ve gone.”</p><p>Remembering that she’d actually ‘danced’ last night, Charlotte flushed. “Er, when?”</p><p>“Tomorrow night. Freaky Friday, as it were.”</p><p>Nearly choking on her water, she coughed a bit. “Jesus. And this place you want to take me to is a club?”</p><p>“Yup. A new spot, according to Diana. Kind of fucked up how it came to be, to be honest. Some big-shot developers bought up the old Sanditon folly and some historical buildings not covered by the trust. They tried to sell it as refurbed apartments, but no one nibbled, so…”</p><p>Georgiana pulled the club website up on her phone, and showed Charlotte. It looked like a typical beach town nightclub from the photos, neon marquee bastardizing the Georgian edifice. It was another modern-meets-old gimmick that wouldn’t work anywhere else except a summer destination all about said gimmick.</p><p>“Really?” she asked, eyebrows raised. Georgiana did not quite love Sanditon as much as she did, but they’d literally be dancing on the grave of history. Then, thinking more about said history, realized that was more of a draw than a deterrent. “Actually -- screw it. I’m in.”</p><p>Georgiana grinned. “And if all goes well with Mr. Stringer…”</p><p>“He’ll be my plus one.”</p><p>They toasted their cappuccinos.</p><p>Breakfast passed without much of note -- or, rather, Charlotte did not note much else beyond the vague notion that she was agreeing to a night of debauchery and all its trappings. As the minutes ticked by, distraction and nerves set in.</p><p>The day promised to be exciting, if anything. With Sidney at the cliffs and James at the pub, possibilities abounded.</p><p>By the time Charlotte returned to Seabreeze, Sidney was up, and, to her surprise, cooking breakfast.</p><p>More surprising was that he was cooking <em> her </em>breakfast.</p><p>“Purely for sustenance,” he explained, expertly skating eggs across a well-used pan. “Georgiana would never forgive me if you were lost at sea, as it were. The rest of humanity, however, would probably offer me a medal of service.”</p><p>“Keep in mind you <em> did </em>tell me I could push you off,” she said, “and there’s a little rocky outcrop you could end up if you keep on like this.”</p><p>“Thus far I’ve been threatened with poison and a cheese knife. Now she comes at me with -- hm, what’s the term for a cliffside tumble?”</p><p>“We could call it a ‘Sidney Parker’ in your honor, if there’s not yet a name for it.”</p><p>“Beautiful.”</p><p>She pretended to preen. “Thank you."</p><p>Rolling his eyes, he scooped the eggs onto a plate. Two pieces of buttered toast joined them. “Maybe this will keep you quiet,” he said, setting the food on the counter in front of her. “Be quick about it, yeah? We’re leaving soon.”</p><p>“Wilco,” she replied, mocking salute in tow.</p><p>After eating, she changed into a bathing suit; her sturdiest two-piece she hoped would hold up against diving into the ocean from a distance. Throwing on shorts and a flowy shirt overtop, she joined Sidney outside.</p><p>“No shawl?” he asked.</p><p>Plucking at the thin material of her top, she said, “This was the best this Sad Divorcee could do.”</p><p>They pulled two bicycles from the side garage, and rode down the dirt path that led away from the cottage. It was another beautiful day in Sanditon. The long stretch of gorgeous weather meant a vicious storm was on its way, but the sky today was clear all the way to the horizon.</p><p>Here and there, Sidney pointed out historical landmarks pertaining to both the Parker family and Sanditon.</p><p>“Ever thought of giving up your life of leisure and evil-doing to become a tour guide?” she asked, after listening to him expound upon one such monument.</p><p>Eyebrow arched, he replied, “There’s a plaque at the Old Sanditon Museum that would tell you I’ve already done it. ‘Volunteer Docent of the Month’ three months consecutively, actually.”</p><p>“That’s nepotism!” she cried, laughing. His brother Arthur ran the museum.</p><p>“I earned my accolades, Heywood, fair and square. Arthur and Diana said my presence drew in the largest crowds which they’ve yet to see since,” he said breezily, and peddled off.</p><p>Eventually, they came upon a split in the road. A ye olde sign thanked them for coming to Sanditon and bid them return again. One fork trailed up and away from Sanditon. The other would take them to the edge of the beach and the rocky climb to where Sidney had made his dive three days ago. </p><p>“That--” he pointed up, “--used to be the old thoroughfare into Sanditon proper. In 1819, the infamous Lady Susan Worcester -- who was most well-known by scholars for her position as the Prince Regent’s favored mistress; though a cache of recently discovered letters suggest that she may have held a fair amount of political weight -- arrived for Sanditon’s first-ever regatta.”</p><p>Charlotte listened intently as he explained the trials and tribulations that had fallen upon Sanditon. After the summer fire -- and several investing blunders -- the town had fallen into deep peril. Very little was known as to how Tom Parker had managed to claw his way out of financial ruin and keep the little seaside town afloat as so many other seaside towns like it floundered.</p><p>“A little up the way is the old Parker House,” he added on, no longer Volunteer Docent Sidney.</p><p>“That’s-- what, three?” she asked, genuinely curious.</p><p>Deciding rightly that she wasn’t being facetious, he ticked off, one by one: “Trafalgar House, Parker House, Seabreeze Cottage… and a walk-up in Bloomsbury, right across from the British Museum.”</p><p>“Jesus,” she breathed. They weren’t just an old family. They were old money, too. “Normal people usually just have the one.”</p><p>They continued down the grassy knoll, biking parallel to the sea. </p><p>Sidney stopped them at the foot of the climb, and explained that they’d need to leave their things before they ascended.</p><p>“Unless you want to walk all the way up and down again, every single time,” he said, which sounded fair enough, and tugged his shirt over his head.</p><p>Charlotte averted her eyes, and quickly did the same. She slid her shorts off, too. Suddenly weirdly nervous at being so underdressed in front of him, folded her clothes and laid them in the little basket of her bicycle.</p><p>“Not backing out, are you?” asked Sidney, correctly assessing her disposition but thankfully not the true reason behind it.</p><p>This, of course, spurred her into courage. “Not in your dreams,” she replied.</p><p>They ascended the hill together. The wind grew stronger the higher they went, whipping Charlotte’s hair into her face and mouth and eyes. Peering over the side, she was struck by the fact that they’d be dropping in at <em> height</em>.</p><p>A little cut into the side of the hill led them around to the flat, rocky jut. Pointing to the point furthest out, Sidney said that was where they’d be jumping.</p><p>“I’ll go first, alright? Watch me as I go,” he said. “You need to push off a bit at the edge. And try to keep a straight line as you go down. We’re not so high up that you’ll die if you muff it, but it won’t feel great.”</p><p>He drew her to the edge and pointed to where she’d have to aim.</p><p>This was when she realized she was shivering from fear, and looking down, down, and down made her knees wobble in the worst way.</p><p>Conceptually, she knew the jump would be high. </p><p>But visualizing it and<em> doing it </em>were two very different things. </p><p>“Fuck off,” she said, hands darting out to grab his forearms. She dug in. There was no way she was letting him leave her up here all alone, the cruel bastard. “You’re mad. There’s no way.”</p><p>To his credit, he did not laugh<em> too </em>hard at her. “You wanted the Wikipedia-free Sidney Parker experience,” he said, “so here we are.”</p><p>“Is that what that was?” she asked faintly.</p><p>It took perhaps another fifteen minutes of coaxing before Charlotte let him go, and then Sidney Parker jumped off with a loud whoop. It was the first time she’d ever seen him experience unreserved joy. </p><p>Watching him surface soon after, he called up to her and waved, trying to coax her to join him.</p><p><em> Have courage</em>, she thought. With a deep breath and a silent prayer to whatever deity would listen and ensure she did not die, she did.</p><p>After the initial terror of the first jump, Charlotte’s adventurous spirit gave way and as soon she’d pulled herself clear up on the outcrop, she was ready to go again.</p><p>“That was <em> incredible</em>!” she cheered.</p><p>Her and Sidney shared wide grins. Adrenaline and saltwater had washed away any pretense between them. She felt good. Better than good. <em> Great</em>. Like she could take on the entire world and win.</p><p>Grinning, she ascended the hill and walked out to the jumping point, hand against the rocks for balance; and, with an all-clear from Sidney below, she lept again.</p><p>Three more times this cycle continued, but when she emerged this last time, Sidney waved her off.</p><p>“That’s enough for you, Heywood,” he said. “You don’t want to exert yourself out here.”</p><p>Now that he brought attention to it, Charlotte all of a sudden felt <em> tired</em>. Climbing and jumping and swimming in the surf took effort. Though she considered herself fit, cliff jumping was an altogether different kind of sport, requiring different sets of muscles and endurance. </p><p>But the ugly part of Charlotte -- the competitive, defiant part -- only heard Sidney say: You can’t do it. It rankled.</p><p>“That’s so strange,” she snipped. “I thought I almost heard you telling me <em> not </em>to do something.”</p><p>Sidney moved to block her path. “Don’t be stubborn,” he nearly growled, as if this tactic would change her mind. “You’re shaking; you’re spent. All it takes is one wrong move and you’ll hit the water--”</p><p>“Then you can finally get that medal you’ve always wanted,” she cut in, and he did not try to stop her again.</p><p>The climb up the hill, however, indeed took a bit longer than the previous three. She was breathing harder, her legs and arms felt heavier, and inching across to the jumping point was slower going. By the time she reached it, she knew Sidney was right: she’d had enough. The water below looked fathomless and impossibly deep. Fear from the first jump had returned; that gut instinct telling her body to turn around, damn her stubbornness and pride.</p><p>But as many adrenaline-junkies could attest, this instinct could be overridden, and with another bracing breath, she did.</p><p>As soon as her feet left solid ground, however, she knew she’d made a grave mistake. The energy to propel herself forward off the rocks wasn’t enough. She was coming down not vertically, but at an angle. She froze, arms wheeling, and crashed into the ocean.</p><p>A thousand needles pierced her skin. Air was punched from her gut like it’d been slammed with a fist. The water felt ice cold and menacing, the pull and push of the current immediately overwhelming her; she couldn’t tell up from down. Saltwater burned her eyes. Lack of oxygen burned her lungs. Panic set in deep. It was too dark-- it was--</p><p>A burst of movement to her right came then, and strong arms locked around her. She was righted and dragged up.</p><p>Breaching the surface of the water, Charlotte gasped for breath. She tipped her head back and let the waves take her. Except it wasn’t the waves but Sidney who’d saved her, and it was he who now towed them both backward to the outcrop. His body buoyed hers; and his voice, harsh and spitting, burned in her ears.</p><p>“You headstrong, little -- god damn -- <em> idiot</em>,” he was saying, and she hadn’t a single ounce of energy to dispute his claims.</p><p>He hauled himself up first. Charlotte clung to the edge of the rocks as he did so, but her arms were shaking too badly to make the attempt herself. Neatly tucking his hands under her armpits, he pulled her from the waters as if he weighed nothing at all. Instead of dumping her beside him, he settled her on him and immediately fell back against the flat rock underneath them, his chest heaving.</p><p>He was shaking as hard as she was.</p><p>Breathing together, they laid out on the rocks. Him, probably thinking of all the ways he wanted to kill her now that the ocean hadn’t. Her, realizing she had come deliriously close to succumbing to the water. </p><p>If Sidney hadn’t been there --</p><p>If she had <em> listened </em>to him--</p><p>Her nose burned with tears. </p><p>She’d been so stupid.</p><p>“Hey,” said Sidney, gently. More gently than she’d ever heard him before, and that was how she knew how close she’d come.</p><p>“Hey,” she replied, choking on the word and her tears. The post-adrenaline crash was hitting her hard now, and she felt like a wet, limp noodle. She couldn’t move. She didn’t <em> want </em>to move. Ice cold water lapped around her legs. Sunlight beat down on her back. She’d never felt so viscerally alive before, and she had Sidney Parker to thank for it. “You missed out on that medal,” she said, laughing a bit, otherwise she was sure she’d start sobbing.</p><p>He sat them up. One hand rested on her lower back, the other cradled the back of her head. His chin was hooked over her shoulder. He was holding her like she was the most precious thing in the world, and not like the prized idiot she very well was.</p><p>“Next time, Heywood,” he said. “I’ll get it next time.”</p><p>It could have been thirty years or thirty minutes, but Charlotte finally put the pieces of her scattered brain together -- and realized, with no small amount of embarrassment, that she was still clinging hard to Sidney Parker, and he was allowing it to happen.</p><p>Upon drawing back, she could barely meet his gaze.</p><p>“Um,” she said eloquently, and followed it up with an even pithier, “Mm.”</p><p>“If I’d known it would take a near-drowning to keep you quiet, I’d’ve settled on it ages ago,” he said, falling back into pattern; his tone, however, was much too casual and light, and a strange shine gleamed in his dark eyes.</p><p>“Right,” she said. A more biting retort did not come. “I should probably…”</p><p><em> Get off him</em>, she thought. She willed herself to move.</p><p>“Probably…?” he repeated slowly.</p><p>Sidney’s hands were burning hot. With an unrepressed shiver, she realized his thumb was moving; a slow, stroking motion above her hip. The hand that cupped the back of her head had, at some point, slid down to her upper back. The edge of his palm rested against the strap of her bathing suit top. </p><p>She imagined him releasing the bow at the back. </p><p>She imagined pushing forward into his chest.</p><p>His thumb stopped moving. His breathing grew heavier, his eyes half-lidded.</p><p>The hand on her back moved up again, a deliberately leisurely glide. Fingers threaded in her wet hair. A gentle tightening of his fist spread a fiery tingle across her scalp, and her eyes fluttered shut. Torturously slowly, he tilted her head back. </p><p>Her neck craned. </p><p>Her lips parted. </p><p>Bright sunlight scattered across her face, her eyelids; orange and yellow and red.</p><p>“Charlotte,” he whispered.</p><p>He could do anything to her, Charlotte thought, and she’d let him.</p><p>The moment broke suddenly and with a wave. A large crest hit the break nearby and washed Sidney and Charlotte in frigid water up to their waists. They jumped apart and scrambled upright, another rush of adrenaline spiking through Charlotte’s veins. They clambered up and over the rocks to escape the uncaring water.</p><p>By the time they were clear, it was too late to acknowledge what had happened. </p><p>Or, rather, it was clear to Charlotte Sidney was unwilling to broach the subject of what the hell he’d meant when he’d-- held her? </p><p>The open expression he’d worn earlier was shuttered away, replaced by the unyielding stoniness she’d come to expect from him.</p><p>This, to her surprise, hurt. </p><p>She was sure he’d meant to kiss her. </p><p>Or maybe, and probably more likely, he’d meant to punish her for defying him. And she’d lapped it up like an idiot. She felt the old stirrings of that classic Heywood-Parker antagonism in her blood, goodwill swept away by his retreating back and his sudden, implacable silence.</p><p>She followed him up to where they’d left their bicycles. He’d already put on his t-shirt and righted his bike, as if he meant to peddle off without her.</p><p>“Parker,” she said, but his back was turned. A complete and utter impenetrable wall. More loudly, more angrily, she called out, “Just going to leave now, are we? I didn’t know you were a coward!”</p><p>He spun on her suddenly, seething and furious. “Just <em> stop it, </em> Heywood! Whatever the fuck you’re doing, whatever game you think you’re playing: <em> stop it. </em> I don’t like you. You don’t like me. That’s how you’ve liked it thus far so let’s just leave it at that. Just <em> stop. </em>”</p><p>Tears welled up in her eyes. She pressed her trembling lips together. </p><p>For once, she had nothing more to say.</p><p>He scrubbed his hand across his face and took a half-step towards her. “Fuck,” he breathed out. “<em>Fuck</em>.”</p><p>But that was the last of it. Jerking his bicycle around, he climbed on smoothly, and left her where she stood.</p><p>She watched him until he disappeared over the hill, a heart she didn’t know she had shattering into a million little pieces.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*angst intensifies*</p><p>so i've kind of dropped a few hints as to charlotte's background -- i wonder if anyone's picked up on it yet? anyone? :o</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Seabreeze was empty when she returned. </p><p>The side garage was open. Sidney’s Aston Martin was gone.</p><p>His bike was tipped on its side in a patch of grass, as if its owner had dumped it when they’d gotten off. She took the time to walk her bike in, and then did the same for Sidney’s. The two bicycles nestled together, pedals neatly aligned.</p><p>Heart thumping, she walked the entire first floor of the cottage. Sidney’s sandals were by the terrace doors, right next to hers. His light blue jacket hung off the back of his breakfast barstool. His used cup of coffee was in the sink. Their two plates from breakfast were still on the counter. Traces of them were everywhere. It was a wake he’d left her to flounder in alone.</p><p>His harsh words still rang in her ears. Stop it, he’d said. Stop what? She hadn’t meant to start anything. <em> He’d </em> been the one to dance with her last night. <em> He’d </em>been the one to take her to Mary’s Beach and the cliffs. If he wanted to call her an instigator, then he was, too.</p><p>“Get yourself together, Heywood,” she muttered.</p><p>But god, it was hard to do. He’d rejected her so thoroughly there was absolutely no doubt in her mind he didn’t want her, didn’t like her, and that whatever had transpired between them on the beach had only been an adrenaline-fueled fluke. </p><p>She shook her head. Not even three full days in his presence and she was losing her grip. </p><p>Whatever delusion she liked to live in was completely gone now, but facing the reality that she maybe, really, did in fact <em> like </em> Sidney, <em> like </em>being around him, was almost too much.</p><p>Charlotte had always been good at striking first. After everything that had happened in her life, she’d perfected it. Some people said getting married at eighteen was a bad idea. But that’s just what a country girl did in Willingden, where nothing happened and where there was nowhere else to go. In her case, the naysayers had been absolutely right. For three years, she’d been entangled in a web from which she thought she’d never escape. But she did.</p><p>Reuniting with Georgiana had been like a bright light at the end of an endless and unforgiving tunnel: a friend who’d pushed her boundaries, and reminded her of her worth. But her scars ran deep, and guarding herself was second nature. When something -- or someone -- was threatening her control, she didn’t back down. </p><p><em> Sidney, </em> she thought haltingly. Sidney <em> terrified </em>her. </p><p>What was true: From the very beginning, they hadn’t gotten along. The moment he had rudely insinuated she was the new Parker family nanny, she’d labeled him ‘dangerous’; put him in a little square box with the kind of men who liked to hurt just because they could. A pretty face and a perfect body with a sinister streak under the facade. From there, it had been all too easy to guide their relationship into mutual hostility. She wasn’t blameless, but neither was he. Nice Sidney had never been an option for her. </p><p>Like recognized like, and Charlotte hadn’t lied. She’d had Sidney’s number the moment she’d met him and he hadn’t disappointed her. He was damaged, too; just as good at giving the punches as he was taking them.</p><p>It was easier to keep someone at bay than let them in, after all. </p><p>You couldn’t get hurt when you did care. </p><p>Her therapist called this self-sabotage. </p><p>Charlotte called it self-preservation.</p><p>But what did you do when you were finally ready to put down the gloves?</p><p>Scrubbing her face of the half-dried tears from her cheeks, she slowly, quietly, put the pieces of herself back together.</p><p>She ought to leave. Call Georgiana and tell her that work had rung her and she was needed back ASAP; but that would cut unfairly into Georgiana’s time with Otis, and…</p><p>She laughed mirthlessly. Sidney was right. She didn’t have a backbone. Not when it came to the little things, or the people she knew she couldn’t stand to lose.</p><p>Ascending the steps to the second floor, she turned left instead of right. She’d been to the cottage before -- Christmas, years ago, before and after her life had gone to utter shit -- but she’d never, ever dared to go near the lair of the master of the house. Today, she not only wanted to push the boundary, she <em> needed </em>to.</p><p>Paintings and photographs hung along the wall; a curious mix of Old Sanditon and New. She didn’t know what she needed to see until she saw it: There was Sidney, missing a tooth, his skinny arms wrapped around Diana and Arthur’s shoulders. They were at the beach, beaming, smiling, and happy.</p><p>Fast-forward a few years later: Sidney and a young Georgiana. They stood next to each other. His eyes were crossed, and she was throwing a silly face that she still made to this day. Another pair of gorgeous people that Charlotte had never had the pleasure to meet were off to the side: Mr. and Mrs. Lambe, both in different stages of exasperation. Georgiana had the same little picture hung in her kitchenette. </p><p>What or who had turned Sidney into Sidney?</p><p>She swallowed around the knot in her throat.</p><p>A steady vibration in her pocket drew her into the present. It was James. He was calling. Who called anymore?</p><p>“Hi, Charlotte; just wanted to confirm we’re still on for tonight?” he asked after she’d answered.</p><p>Honestly, she had completely forgotten about their date. Checking the time, she realized she barely had an hour to shower and ready herself. She desperately wanted to beg off, but she also knew she couldn’t spend a single minute more in Seabreeze. She didn’t want to be here when Sidney returned. She didn’t want to be here if he didn’t, either.</p><p><em> Wash him out of your hair, </em> she thought. </p><p>James Stringer, nice and easy, was the perfect shampoo.</p><p>Resolved, she chirped, too friendly, “Yup. See you soon!”</p><p>Her walk into town settled most of Charlotte’s nerves. She’d showered quickly, thrown her hair into a messy topknot, and tossed on a breezy t-shirt dress. A little bit of mascara, and she’d been happy with her efforts.</p><p>She looked beach casual and cute, and James’ eyes lit up as soon as he saw her, his gaze traveling down the line of her body. The appraisal was appreciated, and boosted her low spirits. She smiled, and it wasn’t at all forced.</p><p>“Wow, hi,” he said, and Charlotte leaned into his proffered side-hug. “You look great.”</p><p>“So do you,” she replied, and he did. James Stringer cleaned up very well. It rather helped that she knew what he looked like under the crisp white tee. He ducked his chin when she met his eye, clearly pleased to have his compliment returned. “Shall we…?” she prompted him.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, absolutely. I got us a table.”</p><p>After ordering a round of drinks, they faced one another at the table. They’d come a little early, and the pub was light in patrons. A game of cricket Charlotte couldn’t see played on the TV behind her. It was normal. So very normal.</p><p>James laughed a little. So did she. It was a nervous, bubbly sound.</p><p>“Um, so what brings you to Sanditon?” he asked, after a moment.</p><p>“Holiday,” she replied. “What else? It’s so beautiful here. I feel like I could stay forever.”</p><p>He nodded. “Right. Me too. I mean, I grew up here so it’s a little less of a holiday for me, but-- I completely understand.”</p><p>“Do you live here, then? Year ‘round?”</p><p>He didn’t, he said. He stayed in London most of the time, but traveled far and often for work; he was a junior associate at an architecture firm, but he had aspirations to build a skyscraper or some such of his own one day. Sanditon had been the beginning of his passion. “Rather hard to pass all the old buildings by every day and not fall in love,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “And you?”</p><p>London as well, she replied, but more recently graduated than he and diligently working to make up for lost time. “Took a while to figure out my life,” she said, tiptoeing around the subject that would probably put cute and easy James Stringer off her completely. As Georgiana said: random, beach-y hook-up. And beach hook-ups didn’t need to know.</p><p>All things considered, the date went well. Once the first-date jitters washed away, James Stringer was good company. He paid attention to her, asked questions, and seemed genuinely interested in her answers. He was very sweet. He complimented her, but not overmuch. They had favorite music and TV shows in common.</p><p>By the end of the night, Charlotte’s mood had improved so much she suggested they walk along the promenade after he settled their tab. Her sandal straps hooked around her fingers, they braved the sand. Along the way, they chatted and shared little throwaway things one did on the first date.</p><p>As the sun began to set, however, a heaviness settled in the air. Sanditon’s promise of clear, calm days had come to an end. Noting the wind picking up, they turned back to the main street.</p><p>“How long are you here for, Charlotte?” asked James, as they reached the road to part ways.</p><p>“A week and then some,” she replied. The chance to ask him to head back to his sparked between them, but just as quickly fell flat. As much as James Stringer put her at ease, she couldn’t see herself tumbling into bed with him after one good night out. But it <em> was </em>a good night. And so, remembering Georgiana’s plan to hit the nightclub, she asked, “Would you like to go dancing with me tomorrow?”</p><p>He did, and she promised to text him the details anon.</p><p>Halfway up the road to Seabreeze, the fat, grey clouds that had threatened rain violently unleashed its quarry. James had offered to give her a ride up the hill before he’d left, but she’d declined. She hadn’t wanted to open the option for him to come inside. Quickly soaked to the bone, she deeply regretted this decision.</p><p>She reached Sidney’s cottage in record time, teeth chattering and fingers slipping as she fumbled to retrieve the key from her purse. It was an unneeded endeavor. The knob turned without resistance. It had already been unlocked.</p><p>“Damn, damn, damn,” she said, frozen solid and now filled with dread.</p><p>But there was no way to tiptoe up the steps and avoid him for Sidney there stood, darkening the hallway.</p><p>A flicker of emotion she couldn’t place crossed his face -- relief? Regret? But it was gone as quickly as it had come, shuttered away and replaced with cool regard.</p><p>“Heywood,” he said. He looked wrecked. Rumpled clothes; beard scruffier than she’d ever seen it. He smelled of cigarettes and strong drink. How long had he been back? Had he been waiting for her all this time? But more importantly: what did he want?</p><p>“Parker,” she replied, pulse thudding so hard in her throat she was sure it was visible.</p><p>He took a step towards her. “You’re dripping all over my fancy rug.”</p><p>“Then get me a towel.”</p><p>“You have two legs and a heartbeat. Get it yourself.”</p><p>The words cut. All the pain and confusion from earlier bubbled up inside of her; and, just as James Stringer had buoyed her spirits, Sidney Parker dragged them back down. Tomorrow, she would tell Georgiana she needed to leave. Tomorrow, she’d be gone. Her eyes burned with fresh, angry tears. “I would, but you’re <em> in my way </em>,” she spat, and moved to pass him.</p><p>He stepped in her way. “I saw you out tonight,” he said. “Walking on the beach with Stringer.”</p><p>Her stomach flipped. He knew James. A part of her -- the part that had bowed so easily to Sidney in the water -- crumbled inward, knowing that he’d caught her out. The fighting part of her, rearing its head, rose to the occasion now and beat it back. He had no right to question her. Not a single question.</p><p>“Bothered, Parker?” she asked. “Jealous?”</p><p>“Just surprised he’d slum it with you,” he said. “But since you’re here now, and very much alone, I see even he couldn’t stand your natural Heywood charm.”</p><p>“Says the man who repulses women at every single fucking turn,” she ground out. “Move, Parker.” He didn’t. “God, you are such--”</p><p>The rest of her words were crushed against his lips.</p><p>Her world spun off its axis. Sunshine filled her veins and fireworks lit up behind her eyelids. He tasted like whiskey and salt and everything she’d ever wanted. His hands clutched her to him, two blazing anchor points against her ice-cold skin. The kiss started off greedy and desperate; but, with a gasping breath between them, mellowed into a slow, unhurried glide.</p><p>They drew away slowly, but they did not go far. </p><p>The front of his clothes was soaked with rainwater. She was shivering against him. The gale battered at the terrace windows.</p><p>“I have baggage,” he said quietly. “Clearly.”</p><p>How was it possible to want someone so badly, after all that had been said and done between them?</p><p>“I have baggage, too,” she replied. “Clearly. As you’ve said, I’ve threatened you with poison.”</p><p>“And a cheese knife.”</p><p>“And I’d nearly gotten you at the beach, but you didn’t notice the club I’d hid behind my back because you’d already peddled off.”</p><p>He pressed his forehead against hers. “This could go very badly. In fact, I know it will.” His hands stroked up and down her arms. “Does that scare you?”</p><p>“You’ve never scared me,” she admitted. All along, he’d had the power to hurt her. She knew it. She’d known it. And yet here they were. “Do I scare you?”</p><p>He kissed her again, and again, and that was answer enough.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>please board this rollercoaster with me, because it's about to get a lil bumpy</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>and here we earn our explicit rating, like, 100%</p><p>Quick edit 9/9: I just want to say THANK YOU to everyone reading, commenting, interacting with me on twitter, etc etc— I will try to catch up with  all of your lovely comments ASAP. Just wanted to say they are not going unnoticed! I’ve been updating this story every day (sometimes twice 😅) as my goal is to finish this before the last dregs of summer leave, so I’ve been putting all my spare time in these chapters. I hope to reply to everyone soon though ❤️</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They took the stairs together. </p><p>Sidney’s hand remained on her lower back, a gentle guide that steered them up and to the left.</p><p>His bedroom was not how Charlotte imagined it would be. A large canopy bed took up the far wall. The sheets were tight and tucked in around the corners, a plush-looking robin’s egg blue duvet flipped back. The pillow was askew: a singular sign that Sidney Parker slept here. An antique writing desk was wedged in the corner. Several paintings hung on the wall, but none captured her attention at first glance. The room was clean; and it was clear everything inside of it was as well-made and well-maintained as the man to whom it belonged. There wasn’t a single thing out of place. Not a sock hanging out of the hamper; a piece of fluff on the carpet; nothing.</p><p>Thinking of the messy bag in her own room and the clutter scattered across her vanity, she imagined her life spilling over here. Earrings on the nightstand. Perfumes and lotions and baubles marching through the spartan space of his. Would he let her encroach?</p><p>Did she want to encroach?</p><p>“Here,” said Sidney, and she was enveloped in a fluffy towel. She hadn’t even realized he’d left her, too busy was she categorizing every single thing she could see. Scoping out the landscape. Trying to fill the void that was Sidney with the material things he surrounded himself with.</p><p>She saw that he’d changed his shirt.</p><p>Thanking him, she dabbed under her eyes. The mirror by the door told her her waterproof mascara had met its match in Sanditon’s downpour.</p><p>Taking the other end of the towel, he gently scrunched the dripping ends of her hair. The top-kot had come loose and was listing dramatically to the side. “Now, I don’t want you to think I’m leaning into the Regency era’s ridiculous standards of female delicacy, but--” he started, but she inched into his space for a kiss. She was too short to reach fully, and he was too slow; her lips met his chin; his, her nose. They broke away.</p><p>“It might be easier to just take my dress off, Parker,” she said frankly. It was not meant to be a seduction line. Just a rote fact because she was cold, and that was the course of things, right? Taking off their clothes?</p><p>He froze. She watched his throat work with satisfaction.</p><p>“Might be,” he said, after a long moment.</p><p>Biting her lip, she dropped the towel. Before she could lose her resolve, she took hold of the end of her dress and peeled the wet, clinging fabric up and away from her body. It joined the towel on the floor.</p><p>Shivering from both nerves and the cold, she fought the urge to cross her arms across her body -- but Sidney’s distant appraisal did not last long. He pulled her close, and she met him in a kiss. It was perfect. As perfect as the first. Incandescent heat radiated between them, and she greedily leaned into him to get more.</p><p>Then, as quickly as it started, he drew away, and spun her around.</p><p>His front was an inferno at her back. His arms encircled her. His chin hooked over her shoulder. One hand on her stomach, the other under her breasts. It was a parody of their embrace at Mary’s Beach, and she knew, just as she knew anything, that it was purposefully done now. The sudden context made her knees weak. Had he wanted her then? Her thighs pressed together.</p><p>“Do you know how much you frustrate me?” he whispered. His stubble scraped against her cheek; the crook of her neck. His lips were smooth.</p><p>“In the usual way?” she asked, but her voice was hopelessly breathless. “Or in another--?”</p><p>He dropped a kiss to the side of her throat. “Let me show you.”</p><p>She sucked in a breath, stomach clenching; whispered words and lazy kisses shouldn’t drive her crazy, but they did. She was shaking out of her skin, impossibly wet between her legs. She felt his erection pressed against the small of her back. The promise that he did want her. The promise of what was yet to come… if she wanted it. And god, how she wanted it. Her toes curled.</p><p>The ocean-facing window had been left open. Between the billowing curtains, she could see the clouds churning in the storm and the light of the moon glancing off the water. The wind howled. It was a perfect backdrop for her emotions. Pulled into the riptide, and she didn’t want to get away.</p><p>“You’re beautiful, Heywood,” he said, palms burning against her skin. She felt his heart beating in his chest; a hurried tattoo that belied the calm timbre of his voice. His hand slid down. His fingertips grazed the lacy band of her panties; a black, cheeky cut she’d worn just in case. A matching bralette had gone with it. Another kiss and he said, “I should’ve told you that before.”</p><p>Her breath hitched. “When?”</p><p>Critical thinking was soon scattered to the storm, however, as his clever fingers found the cleft of her. He started with a slow circle at her clit; then a gentle, maddeningly tease lower, lower. She was soaked for him. He sank into her and, with a broken moan, she sank against him; he held her up easily, his forearm an iron band holding her close. </p><p>It was impossible to be so close, so quick, but she was. Sidney knew exactly what he was doing to her, kissing at the side of her neck, the corner of her panting mouth, rubbing circles at her throbbing clit. Words were whispered in her ear: she was beautiful, he wanted her, he’d always wanted her. She was so lost she didn’t realize he’d shifted them, nudged her forward and positioned them in front of the mirror, until he demanded she open her eyes.</p><p>She did. Gasping, every muscle tightened as she caught her reflection: black mascara smudged, hips undulating, Sidney’s hand caught and moving under the lace of her panties, her lips red-bitten. Then, Sidney: eyes deliriously bright, teeth flashing against the taut line of her neck.</p><p>“You’re depraved,” she breathed, loving and hating this mirror version of herself. Mirror Charlotte had thrown her control down and given in. Mirror Charlotte believed in the solid safety net at her back. She wanted to be her forever. She wanted to be here forever.</p><p>“If wanting to watch you is depraved,” he replied, “then I am that.” He kissed her again, gently; right at the corner of her mouth, his nose against her cheekbone. Their eyes locked: “I want to watch you come, Charlotte.”</p><p>Eyes screwed shut, she felt herself begin to shatter apart. Sidney’s breath grew labored, and his fingers sped up against her. The sounds they were making were wet, obscene, and she could feel it sliding down her leg; but she was too far gone to be embarrassed -- to question if he’d like that about her -- and with another shaking breath and Sidney’s command in her ear, she came; <em> hard.  </em></p><p>Fire filled her veins and starbursts scattered across her vision. Lighting crashed. Thunder boomed. The windows rattled, and Seabreeze shook. Charlotte screamed.</p><p>Nails biting into his forearm, she shuddered and shivered and moaned; hips twitching as Sidney continued to draw her pleasure out until it morphed into too much, not enough. She didn’t dare open her eyes. Not yet. She didn’t want to see what she looked like in this moment; cracked open and unguarded, and him watching her unspool.</p><p>Eventually, she grew limp in his arms, and he gentled his ministrations before withdrawing altogether; and, just as she was sure her knees would buckle under her, he scooped her up into a bridal carry.</p><p>She considered complaining about being handled -- for old time complaining’s sake -- but being tucked against his solid chest, even for the handful of steps it took to reach his bed, was gloriously comforting after the intense orgasm he’d wrung from her. She hadn’t thought it was possible. Already he was the best she’d ever had.</p><p>He set her down atop the duvet. The mattress was just as comfortable as the one in her room. </p><p>Hand skating across the fabric of his covers, she asked, “I almost feel bad lying on something so fancy. A million thread count, I imagine?”</p><p>“Close enough,” he said wryly. “But if you need to feel sorry, feel sorry for my foyer. The rug you rained on is an antique. Family heirloom, you might say.”</p><p>“Docent me later,” she said. Sidney had taken off his shirt during the conversation, and the sight of his body, illuminated by the light from the hallway and the flashes of far-off lightning, stirred her blood anew. How she’d held off for so long was a mystery. He wasn’t near-perfect. He <em> was </em>perfect.</p><p>As he removed the remainder of his clothing, she slid her panties down over her hips, her ankles, then off completely -- and, after a fortifying breath, she took her bralette off as well. Cool air skated across her breasts. Remembering the blazing heat of Sidney’s body against hers, want panged desperately through her. Her nipples tightened, almost painfully so. </p><p>For a moment, however, the situation -- Sidney Parker, naked; Charlotte Heywood, naked; the both of them, naked together -- was so absurd, she gave into what could only be characterized as a giggle.</p><p>Sidney, thumbs now hooked into the band of his briefs, arched his eyebrow in question. “Laughing at me, Heywood?”</p><p>But Sidney Parker was very good at rendering her speechless: the question of size, asked only a few days prior, was answered thoroughly. Charlotte was pleased -- and, truth be told, a little annoyed -- to admit that his enormous ego was well-deserved.</p><p>“Eyes up here, if you please,” he said, gesturing up in the general vicinity of his head. An air of male gloating hung about him now.</p><p>This, of course, would not do.</p><p>“It’s too dark to see anything,” she said lightly, and just as quickly grabbed his wrist to pull him atop her.</p><p>He hissed. “You’re <em> freezing</em>,” he said.</p><p>Lips curling into a smile, she said: “Then warm me up.”</p><p>If she’d expected Sidney to proceed immediately into the main event, Charlotte was quickly disillusioned of this notion. She should have guessed patience was his virtue; after the dance, the beach, the cliffs.</p><p>He kissed her slowly; gentle, gliding kisses that fed into heavier, gasping ones. Caresses gave way to greedy, firm touches. Everything he did banked the fire between them until she was consumed. Calloused thumbs brushed across her nipples. Open-mouthed kisses peppered across her collarbone. The night fell away in bursts of hurried movements between a languid tempo.</p><p>She didn’t realize it had changed until he started moving; down, down, down. It stirred her out of her stupor.</p><p>“Can I--?” he asked, chin propped on her stomach. His hands rested on her hips, fingers tight on her naked skin. There was no question as to what he was asking; what he was so desperate to do for her.</p><p>Oral had rarely done anything for her, but Sidney Parker at the helm was a revelation: his perfect jaw, perfect mouth and talented tongue worked at her until he found a method that set her ablaze. He alternated between slow and fast, long striping licks and gentle suction; put together, they drove her higher and higher, wound her tighter and tighter. </p><p>It was not possible that he ate her out forever, but it felt like time had slipped away completely; all she knew was exquisite pleasure building between her legs. She tilted her head up, unable to stop herself from looking down at him-- their eyes caught. His pupils were blown open. He groaned at seeing her. The vibration rippled through her core. </p><p>Heart thumping in her chest, hands clenched in her hair, she couldn’t suppress the moans and cries he pulled from her; it had been so, so long since she’d had sex, and it seemed some kind of irony that she would break her dry spell with Sidney Parker.</p><p>
  <em> Does it scare you? </em>
</p><p>“Yes,” she moaned, “God, yes-- <em> Sidney</em>--”</p><p>He was above her in a moment. She could taste herself on him as they kissed; a foreign, heady tang she found neither unpleasant or remarkable. </p><p>“Charlotte,” he said, and kissed her again. “I need you--”</p><p>Her knees bracketed his hips. His cock slipped between her wet folds; the head of his erection nudged at her clit. They were sliding together, her hips hitching up in tiny, jerking motions. </p><p>“Yes--yes-- I’m clean. I’m on the pill,” tumbled from her lips. Claxons blared in her ears as it did. The words were the kind of dumb, silly thing that could get her in trouble, but she didn’t care. </p><p>She needed him. </p><p>She couldn’t wait.</p><p>And neither could he.</p><p>Taking hold of himself, he drew back and slid into her. Even as wet as she was, he was big. Bigger than she was used to. She felt split open. She felt completely exposed. He was inside her, around her, above her. Her vision tunneled. </p><p>Her back arched as she cried out, the stretch settling on just the right side of pleasure and pain. Already riding on the cusp of an orgasm, it took only a few curving, purposeful thrusts before Charlotte was digging her nails into the meat of his back and shaking apart in his arms. </p><p>He groaned in her ear, his back bowing over her, and then he was shuddering; he spent, molten hot, into her. He kissed her deeply, and she let him.</p><p>He pulled away after a moment, and settled beside her. They fit together perfectly. </p><p>Outside, the storm continued to rage.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>you're gonna hate me</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The bed dipped behind her.</p>
<p>Charlotte’s eyes fluttered open and she half-turned, not realizing she’d fallen asleep until she was roused. It took a heartbeat to realize she was not in her room and another to remember why this was so.</p>
<p>She’d slept with Sidney Parker. And she’d liked it. Really, really liked it.</p>
<p>The memory of his head between her legs jumped forward in her mind, and the drawn-out orgasm that had come after it quickly followed. Flushing deeply, she sat up. Her body ached; muscles she hadn’t used in years protesting as she shifted forward and pulled the tangled sheets to her chest. Modesty wasn’t on her mind here: the room was cold, and growing colder still. </p>
<p>By the looks of it, only a few hours had passed. It was impossibly dark. </p>
<p>With a tentative touch of her hand, she found the space beside her empty -- but a crack of lightning illuminated the room. And there, at the window, stood Sidney. As cold as she was, her center throbbed with heat. The aftermath of them hung heavy in the air around her, but her body only remembered fleeting pleasure; the way he’d moved against her; the way their breaths synced; the way he’d tenderly brushed the hair away from her forehead as they’d laid together afterward.</p>
<p>She let her gaze trace the lines of his body. He was naked still. A puckered line she hadn’t ever noticed marred the skin at his side. It didn’t look like a surgery scar. It looked like--</p>
<p>“I can hear the hamster running,” he said, cutting through the silence. His voice sounded deceptively fond.</p>
<p><em> I have baggage</em>, he’d said.</p>
<p><em> He’ll hurt you</em>, she translated. </p>
<p>Here and now, in his room, she could almost convince herself the pain would be worth it.</p>
<p>“It’s a squeaky wheel,” she agreed. Hearing herself, voice hoarse from their lovemaking, broke her resolve. Suddenly, her nerves tangled and twisted. It had been years since she’d had to follow post-coital etiquette. She was terribly rusty. Had he left the bed because he’d wanted her gone? Her dress laid in a wet, crumpled heap by the door. Her panties and bralette were lost. She dropped the sheet, ready to pick up the pieces and flee.</p>
<p>“You’re shivering,” he remarked. “Sorry, I run hot. Let me--” he shut the window, and she watched him return to the bed warily.</p>
<p>With a thumping fluff to his pillow, he settled down next to her. He raised a questioning eyebrow. “Ready to run already, Heywood?”</p>
<p>He’d run from her on the cliffs. He’d been the coward, then. The barb was on the tip of her tongue, ready to fly forth; but his hand stroked up the notches of her spine, fingertips tripping up the delicate skin, and her cruel words subsided with a sigh.</p>
<p>She laid back. Together, they shifted; her, the small spoon; him, enveloping her in blazing warmth as promised. His knees wedged up behind hers. She tucked her toes against his shins and pulled his arms closer to her body. Tension still thrummed through her, mind whirring with the innumerable consequences of their actions, but she was ready to pretend as much as he that this was completely and utterly normal. As if this slice of domesticity fit perfectly between them.</p>
<p>Try as she might, sleep proved impossible. Though the bedroom window was closed, she could still hear the ocean crashing outside; the rain pounding against the roof; the rattle and creak of the ancient Parker cottage as it fought with the gale. Sidney’s slow breaths ruffled her hair. The roughness of his body hair tickled against her smooth skin. She was tired. Her eyelids drooped. But her blood was rushing in her veins and her heart drummed a rapid tattoo. More than anything, she was unsettled. Frustrated.</p>
<p>She didn’t understand what the discomfort was until Sidney stirred with a huff of gentle, knowing laughter, his hand drawing up to cup her breast. When he kissed the side of her neck, her back bowed; hips nudging back against his. Yes, she thought; yes, this was exactly what she needed.  </p>
<p>He was hard now, moving her with him in a slow grind. The sheets slipped down around them. Reaching back to curl her fingers into his hair, she wordlessly beckoned him into action.</p>
<p>“Like this,” he murmured, lifting her leg up to hook over his. She felt open; exposed in the best way. The angle had changed everything. He was sliding against her now, slipping between her folds; the head of his cock nudged at her soaked entrance with every pass, both a tease and a promise. His breath was hot and heavy at her ear, his voice a low groan: “You’re so wet-- you’re so--”</p>
<p>The reverence in his voice made her breath stutter in her throat. His arm under her snaked forward. His hand found hers. Their fingers slotted together. Sweat beaded at her brow, the cold thoroughly dispelled by the heat building between them.</p>
<p>“Sidney,” she breathed, her free hand gripping hard at his wrist. He rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and she cried out as rippling pleasure-pain sparked across her skin. There was no way she was already on the edge, but she felt it building anyway; every passing touch of him against her clit cresting over her like a wave and threatening to pull her under. “I’m-- I’m--”</p>
<p>Reaching down, he guided himself into her with a bitten-off groan. Slow, incremental thrusts seated him all the way inside, and he held still, as if he knew she needed a moment to adjust to his size. She was sore, but she didn’t care. </p>
<p>She soon realized he intended for her to set the pace; his chest heaved, and his grip on her hand bordered on bruising, but he otherwise remained motionless. Experimenting, she squeezed around him and rocked her hips, deliriously pleased at the punched out grunt he gave as she did so.</p>
<p>“Like this,” she repeated, and showed him how she liked it.</p>
<p>They stayed like that, a slick push-and-pull so different from the hurried first round and yet no less intense. She could stay in his arms forever, she thought, just like this; and soon enough she was coming with a sigh, not a shout. He found his own pleasure not a minute after her, his fingers gripping her chin, her body almost impossibly contorted to receive the messy kiss at the side of her mouth.</p>
<p>A time later, Charlotte woke for the second time.</p>
<p>Sidney’s hand was on her upper chest. His thumb stroked across her collarbone. Just by the rhythm of his breathing, she knew he was awake. The light coming through the window was pale, the sun not yet clipping over the horizon. The storm had passed.</p>
<p>“Good morning,” she said.</p>
<p>“Morning,” he replied.</p>
<p>She waited for him to say anything else, but he didn’t. The ball, it seemed, was firmly in her court. As much as she wanted to stay in this moment forever, she knew they couldn’t. The sun would rise. Life would go on. So, too, did they.</p>
<p>Gathering her courage, she turned over to face him. They came nearly nose-to-nose. She remembered too late that morning breath was very real and made to escape, but Sidney anchored his hand behind her.</p>
<p>“I don’t care, Heywood,” he said, correctly guessing the reason for her distress. “Unless you do.”</p>
<p>All things considered, the state of her mouth was the last thing on her mind. She shook her head. At least they were, in this case, on the same page.</p>
<p>“So. We had sex last night,” she said, deciding it was best to cut to the quick and put them both out of their awkward morning-after misery. For accuracy’s sake, she tacked on: “Twice.”</p>
<p>There was a look in his eyes she couldn’t place. </p>
<p>“Do you regret it?” he asked, after a moment.</p>
<p>The question was loaded, and her answer even more so. In truth: she did, and she didn’t. Physically, there was no doubt she was sated beyond belief. Emotionally, however, she couldn’t even begin to reconcile the sudden intimacy between them after years of butting heads. She’d gotten exactly what she wanted, and now she didn’t know what to do with it. Jumping into bed with men wasn’t a normal for her, and it was rather hard to believe tumbling in Sidney Parker’s arms could be washed away as a random beach-y hook-up.</p>
<p>There was a knot in her throat now, and she swallowed thickly around it. “Do you?”</p>
<p>He searched her face; dark eyes tracked hers, then down to her lips and back up. With a sigh, he rolled onto his back. His hands folded across his taut stomach. “No,” he said, and continued on lightly, “but this rather complicates things, doesn’t it? I mean, we’ve been at loggerheads for ages. What will Georgiana think?”</p>
<p>Her stomach dropped. It was the saddest excuse she’d ever heard.</p>
<p>The way he’d held her; the things he’d whispered-- she’d thought--</p>
<p>God, she was so stupid.</p>
<p>In all the years she’d known him, Sidney had never, to her knowledge, had a serious relationship. It was incredibly naive, and perhaps a bit vain, to believe she would have been the one to capture whatever ice-cold heart he had. He’d warned her. She hadn’t listened.</p>
<p>“You’ve never scared me,” she’d said, but that was a lie.</p>
<p>She sat up, suddenly sick. “Right,” she said. “I mean-- of course. It was a mistake. You’d been drinking and--”</p>
<p>He sat up, too. He looked struck. “That’s not what I meant.”</p>
<p>Irritation flashed up her spine; an old and faithful friend when sparring with him. She leaned into it.</p>
<p>“Then <em> what </em> do you mean?” she cried. “You’re hot and cold, Parker, and I’m <em> lost</em>. You tell me to fuck off, and then after I do as I’m told, you go on and <em> kiss me </em> and-- and-- and now you’re warning me off, as if I’d been the sole party in any of this. I don’t even know what happened! I don’t even know <em> why </em>it happened!"</p>
<p>“Charlotte--”</p>
<p>“And <em> that </em> is not fair,” she said, interrupting him. She climbed out of bed, spitefully pulling the sheets with her. She didn’t want to hear any more of what he had to say; not now.</p>
<p>“Don’t you dare leave, Heywood,” he said. The growl was back. “We need to talk.”</p>
<p>“Oh, you want to discuss what happened like adults? Not worried about what Gigi will think now, do we?” she asked airily. She marched through the hallway; a straight line to her rooms. “Sorry. Can’t do, babe. I have plans tonight.”</p>
<p>He followed her. “Plans? Stop being so damn stubborn! Goddammit-- Heywood--”</p>
<p>She dropped the sheets before she crossed the threshold of her room. She spun around. A bright, fake smile was fixed on her face to mask the burning tears threatening to fall. “Ta!”</p>
<p>The look on his face as the door slammed in it was pricelessly furious and gloriously familiar.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4BxB9UkYbaOeocvOcaRGu5?si=0SefEnWNSFGk90exMXOAUA">this chapter's "playlist" is here if you'd like to listen along</a>
</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>A queue had gathered outside of the nightclub by the time their party arrived at the fashionably late hour of near-midnight. After a quick word with the doorman, Georgiana and Otis and Charlotte and James were waved on past the red rope. With a bracing smile that bordered, more or less, on a grimace, Charlotte walked in under the neon marquee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Multi-colored lights flashed overhead in time with overloud music. Thumping bass pulsed through her body and rattled her lungs. A massive chandelier greeted them at the top of the stairs above the mezzanine level. The theme of Regency-meets-Modern continued throughout; a three-storied monstrosity of crushed velvet, wall mirrors, and lace. It was most impressively bad, leaning fully and unironically into its gaudy mess.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The atrocious decor deterred exactly no one. Charlotte noted a packed dance floor on each level, full-service bars fully patronized, and drunk, writhing bodies at every turn. The latest attraction in Sanditon and recently opened, The Folly had pulled everyone in from the quaint beaches and promised fun the likes of which the sleepy seaside town hadn’t seen in, quite possibly, forever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Poured into a yellow dress she’d borrowed and strapped into too-high heels, Charlotte vowed to partake in this fun. A night of drinking and dancing with her friends (and James, who looked gamely about the desecrated remains of the buildings he loved so much) was exactly what she needed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Either way, it wasn’t like her day -- or night, rather -- could get much worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time she’d removed herself from her room after her and Sidney’s morning-after spat, Seabreeze had been empty again. No small part of her had wished Sidney had stayed; that he’d been waiting for her in the living room, patiently waiting to have that adult conversation he’d so desperately wanted to have with her, but that would have been too easy. Too simple. She’d exploded on him and lit his fuse in return. The clarity afforded to her by the cold light of day had come too late, both of them unable to meet in the middle when it counted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All this running between them was exhausting and she knew something had to give; but tonight, it wouldn’t be her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought, of course, must have summoned some cruel God bent on torturing one Charlotte Heywood… because there, at one of the many plush VIP tables, sat none other than Sidney Parker. He was wearing a fitted suit, white collared shirt open at the throat. He looked deceptively casual. A group of men she did not recognize were seated around him, laughing riotously amongst themselves as Sidney looked out and on like an emperor surveying his kingdom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their eyes met. Static shock shot up her spine. Her traitorous body reminded her of exactly how good she’d felt under him, and, for a moment, the world fell away around them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, with a trademark sneer curling his lip, Sidney lifted his glass in her direction -- and then to James Stringer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything about his demeanor screamed: </span>
  <em>
    <span>This the best you can do, Heywood?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>To her horror, James waved to Sidney in return. Too late, she remembered they knew one another. Gritting her teeth, she realized Sindey had won this volley. Did she even want to play this game anymore? Clearly, he did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mind spinning, she needed a moment to think… far, far away from him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s get a drink,” she yelled over the music, and all but dragged James behind her lest he get the crazy idea to actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>walk over to Sidney </span>
  </em>
  <span>and talk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After securing a sickly-sweet and disgustingly-strong vodka cranberry and drinking half of it down in one long pull from its tiny straw, she again took James and went in search of Georgiana and Otis.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were found on the second story dance floor, and Charlotte hip-checked her way through the crowd to wedge her way between the dancing couple. After a quick game of charades, Otis peeled off to secure another round of drinks, stopping along the way to wrap James up in the thankless task.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looping her arm around Georgiana’s shoulders, Charlotte joined her friend in an easy, slow sway. Distantly, she realized she was being really rather rude to James Stringer -- she’d invited him to a night out and had yet to pay much attention to him -- but she needed Georgiana’s grounding presence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All it had taken was one glance from Sidney Parker to knock her off balance, and she was spinning off into the ether.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sidney’s here,” she said, unable to help herself. She repeated the phrase three times more before Georgiana seemed to hear and understand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So? Forget him! Have fun!” came the advice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Under normal circumstances, easily done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Circumstances as they were, not so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t concentrate on anything </span>
  <em>
    <span>but </span>
  </em>
  <span>Sidney. She wanted to walk over to him and demand to know what he was doing, drinking and having fun where she was. Did he know she would be here, too? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She imagined his snide comment. She imagined throwing her drink into his face in return. She also imagined straddling his lap in view of everyone and kissing him to shut him up -- but this horny line of thinking was much less helpful than the others and solely the result of the vodka-cran mixing with her vivid memories of the previous night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which: she hadn’t yet told Georgiana about that. Disclosing it in the middle of The Folly’s heaving dance floor was just as unappealing as the vodka drink in her hand; and so there was nothing left to do but return to James and her fresh drink, and let the music take her away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tried and true ideals of ‘fake it until you make it’ and ‘denial, denial, and more denial’ were on the docket for the evening. ‘Ignore him’ quickly became her mantra, though it was one she couldn’t at all follow. Every few seconds, she looked up at the balcony, hoping to catch a glimpse of Sidney watching her dance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Club music had never been Charlotte’s favorite, but it was easy to move to. The fast, pounding beat and warbling, nonsensical lyrics melded well with the laser show glimmering off the hanging crystal overhead, and it didn’t take long before the buzz entered her bloodstream and she no longer cared about looking foolish as she lifted her arms up and swung her hips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another drink later and she was floating, up, up, up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unsurprisingly, James was ever the gentleman. Charlotte had pulled him to the dance floor, but he hadn’t moved to grind against her. Instead, he kept a respectable distance between them and made her laugh with his rendition of several silly dance moves. He was quite talented, actually; moving fluidly to the beat even as he swung his arm in mockery of robots everywhere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re good!” she yelled into his ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” he responded, dipping down to shout in her ear as she obligingly turned it towards him, “you’re not too bad yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a smile, she dropped her arms on his shoulder. His hands came to her hips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a moment where she thought she could do it: leave with James Stringer, or kiss him, or… but, looking up into his kind face, she knew she couldn’t. She felt nothing but friendship for him, and using him to wash Sidney Parker from her palate would have been cruel. Selfish and unkind; so much so she was sure it would leave a stain on her soul forever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their first date had proved him to be a great guy and a wonderful catch for any girl. If only that girl wasn’t completely wrapped up in someone else, and she was as twisted up as they came.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No -- James Stringer deserved better than being her afterthought or her weapon of choice. He deserved honesty, too. The sooner, the better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the beat dropped and moved into another song, she pulled him away from the floor. A blast of cold air hit them from the fans above as they left, and they had to weave through a throng of bodies on their way out; she kept her hand in his as they went so they would not become separated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took a minute, but she eventually found an alcove where the music wasn’t completely deafening. It was still loud, however, and so her and James had to stand close, heads tipped together so as to hear one another.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I really like you, James,” she said, and could have nearly slapped her forehead for how she’d chosen her words. He looked shyly pleased. With an apologetic grimace, she continued on, “As a friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face dropped, clearly not expecting these unfortunate turn of events. But, to his credit, he rallied with a smile shortly after. “My dancing put you off that badly, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head, and went to hold his hands. They were warm and a little clammy. Her mind immediately turned to Sidney’s hands, and how different they’d felt in hers. Not for the first time, she cursed her stubbornness and pride. Why the hell had she walked away from Sidney this morning? One night stand or not, the opportunity to settle everything and air it all out had been right </span>
  <em>
    <span>there. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not at all,” she said, feeling both terrible and terribly relieved. “There’s-- kind of someone else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His smile turned rueful. “There always is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For what it’s worth, I really enjoyed our date. And you’ve been a wonderful dance partner.” She swallowed. “Maybe when we’re both back in London we could get coffee?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As friends,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As friends,” she agreed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I appreciate you being honest with me, Charlotte,” he said, after a moment. “I hope whatever’s keeping you and ‘someone else’ apart isn’t too complicated.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It always is,” she replied. It felt the utmost irony that she was able to be upfront with James, and yet not at all with whom she truly, honestly needed to be -- but that was a problem for Tomorrow Charlotte to mull over, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With another smile, James jerked his head back towards the dance floor. “Come on, then. We can still have fun. The night won’t dance itself away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And indeed it wouldn’t. One honest conversation out of the way, Charlotte allowed herself to be led back out onto the dance floor. As James shimmied and two-stepped, she had to acknowledge it was a shame she was in too deep elsewhere. Not only was he a great dancer, but he was a stand-up guy, too; a rare breed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A time later, awareness prickled at the back of Charlotte’s neck; and, just like she’d done earlier in the night, her gaze was drawn up, up, up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sidney was leaned on the balcony above. A curve of blue light cut across his face, and they locked eyes. How long had he been watching her?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a blink, he was gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, the drunk buzz flirting through her system felt unpleasant. She peeled off from the little Georgiana-Otis-James dance square with a gesture that she hoped encompassed the universal symbol for ‘water break’, and teetered away in search of something non-alcoholic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she was elbowing her way through the crush, she was caught by the waist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was such a familiar hold by now that she didn’t even fight it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her body melted against Sidney’s. For a beat, they stood together; two bodies as still as statues in a sea of ever-moving people.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stringer again?” he said, lips pressed against the shell of her ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jealous again?” she asked, but surely the music was too loud; if he’d heard her, she didn’t know. He didn’t reply with words. Instead, he held her more closely and set them to swaying; too slow for the beats per minute playing overhead, and much too close to the way they’d moved together that second time in his bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her heart thudded wildly in her chest, and the room spun around her. She was so tired of running. She tipped her head back, the added height from her heels bringing them more neatly together. The promise that they could untangle the knot they’d tied themselves into hung between them; for once, Charlotte saw the loose string, and knew if she pulled, everything would unravel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Years ago, when she had first met Georgiana, everything had been so simple: two girls of the same age, on the same beach, without a care in the world. They’d listened to the Spice Girls unironically, and roller-skated up and down the promenade singing Wannabe until they had blisters. They’d annoyed each other, and everyone else, and loved and lost -- the tragedy of uninterested big brothers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just like she’d told James, history had a funny way of repeating itself. Life was indeed cruel that way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The second time around: She’d been eighteen; Sidney, twenty-four.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“New nanny, Diana?” he’d asked, walking into Trafalgar House without even a knock to the front door. Georgiana had rolled her eyes, but Charlotte only had stars in hers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d been wearing reflective aviators and smelled like an ashtray, but Charlotte had recognized him immediately as the skinny-armed boy who’d helped her learn to roller skate and let her and Georgiana gather his hair into stubby pigtails that first Sanditon summer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The change in her, however, must have been dramatic because it was clear he hadn’t remembered her at all; too cool to bother with Georgiana and her friends. And, with his simple carelessness, he’d dismissed her entirely and crushed her tender, teenaged heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What had come next had been even less kind; but none of it was his fault, or even hers, and maybe, just maybe, it was time to let the past go, and look to the future.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pressed against him, she remembered the yellow light in the window of Seabreeze guiding her home; her bag in the bedroom; Mary’s Beach; the sound of his laughter ringing from the rocks at the cliffs; the pain in his eyes when he’d realized he’d hurt her. The half-step and the self-hate as he’d left her on the hill. All the times she’d skewered him with her words before he could hurt her again. All the times he’d returned the favor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’d been exchanging blows for so long she didn’t know if they knew how to stop, but--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was willing to try. She wanted to try.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turned around, looping her arms around his neck; her thigh fitted between his, and he pressed his forehead against hers. In proximity, they worked so well together. Being with him felt as natural as breathing. She closed her eyes; nerves and fear and everything in between swirled through her veins, but as any adrenaline-junk could attest, gut instinct could be overridden, and she made the jump.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take me home,” she said.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AzjTJpzfB8U">lie by sasha sloan</a> was on repeat as i wrote this in case you'd like to listen along</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Silence rang in her ears as soon as they stepped clear of The Folly.</p>
<p>A group of smokers hung by the sidewall, and she gestured to Sidney and said, “One before we go?”</p>
<p>He shook his head, hand gently squeezing around hers; he’d taken it with the pretense to assist her down the dark, carpeted stairs and had yet to let it go. “I’m trying to quit,” he replied. “Bad habit.”</p>
<p>They began to walk. Everything faded behind them; voices and the booming reverberation of speakers swept away by ocean sounds. Neither of them seemed to have a particular direction in mind. The moon hung heavy and bright in the clouds above, illuminating the row of historical townhomes that had, over the years, been transformed into a charming downtown. Here and there, brass signs had been erected.</p>
<p>As such, Volunteer Docent Sidney had returned in style and pointed them out along their meandering route. “Heely’s,” he said. “Tom Parker’s journal notes it as Sanditon’s ‘first shop’. And there-- Augusta Griffiths’ Boarding House.” He began to describe the Old Sanditon thoroughfare.</p>
<p>As he spoke, Charlotte could almost see the street as it had been, give or take two hundred years: A London coach rolling through. Its doors swinging outward to pour all kinds of people out into the town. People who could fashion themselves into whatever they wished to be; strangers among strangers. An army of masons and laborers crawled up an intricate web of scaffolding; the sound of hammers and chisels and men working desperately through day and night to achieve Tom Parker’s dream of enterprise. Ladies parasols and muslin dresses floated down to Donkey Beach for an afternoon in the bathing machines.</p>
<p>With a blink, she was back in the present.</p>
<p>Glancing over, she saw Sidney looking at her intently.</p>
<p>“You’re quite good, you know. I could see everything,” she said, flushing lightly under his questioning stare. “If the life of evil ever bores you, I’m sure Arthur and Diana would be more than happy to have their Most Popular Docent Ever return.”</p>
<p>“‘Evil’ pays too well,” he replied wryly.</p>
<p>“And--” she licked her lips. “What <em> is </em>it that you do, exactly?”</p>
<p>She expected a reaction, but not the one she received: a loud bark of bewildered laughter.</p>
<p>“You mean to tell me, Heywood, that after all this time-- you never knew?” he asked.</p>
<p>A week ago, she would have flared with irritation. Tonight, she could laugh at herself, and so she did.</p>
<p>“Everyone says you’re a saint. Saint Sidney,” she said. “A perfect angel.”</p>
<p>“In your defense, Lucifer <em> was </em>one.”</p>
<p>“I know,” she replied lightly. “As you said, I could have looked you up. Knowing my track record, I am completely off with my assumption… but I could never bring myself to dispel the illusion when it came to you. The way we get on -- got on? -- it seemed more fitting to imagine you with horns and a tail, spewing smoke and sulfur… somewhere in a boardroom?”</p>
<p>“I do sometimes smolder there,” he replied. “I work for a consulting firm; my role is mainly assisting global non-profit entities in various capacities.”</p>
<p>She blinked up at him. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard so many nonsensical corporate buzzwords in one sentence before.”</p>
<p>“You haven’t?” he said, voice low. “<em>Synergy</em>. Deep dive. Ideate. The bleeding edge.”</p>
<p>She gave an exaggerated shiver. “Ooh.”</p>
<p>“I could continue all night.”</p>
<p>There was a heat to his voice that didn’t so much as hint at innuendo as declare it loudly, and Charlotte leaned heavily against him, helplessly affected by the sound of his voice. He dropped her hand and just as easily looped his around her side. He was deliciously warm and the urge to nuzzle against him was held back only by the knowledge that she’d rub makeup on his fancy clothes.</p>
<p>He stopped them under an awning and turned to face her, his index finger touching gently under her chin. His eyes searched hers for a long moment. “Are you and Stringer--?” he asked haltingly, the rest of the question hanging heavy and tense between them. She saw his jaw clench.</p>
<p>“No,” she breathed. “Just friends. There’s someone else.”</p>
<p>His thumb brushed against her bottom lip. “My, my, Heywood. Another one? I hope he’s worth it.”</p>
<p>“So do I,” she replied. Her hands came up to press against his firm chest. “It’s been a long time coming, I think.”</p>
<p>“What’s stopped you two before?”</p>
<p>His voice had dropped again. Her fingers curled into the lapels of his suit jacket.</p>
<p>“Me? Him? Our natural inclination to clash?” She bit her lip. “We’re both very stubborn people, you see; and prideful, too. He’s not a very good cook and I think he resents me for it.”</p>
<p>His lips twitched like he was fighting off a smile. “He sounds like a right dick.”</p>
<p>“He can be,” she agreed, eyes shining. “But I can be, too. That’s sometimes why I like him so much. When we aren’t at <em> loggerheads </em>it’s… something else entirely.”</p>
<p>“Something good?”</p>
<p>“Incredibly so.”</p>
<p>“I imagine he feels the same way. How could he not?” He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Then what’s the next step?”</p>
<p>“An honest conversation,” she said. It was becoming increasingly difficult to have<em> any </em>conversation, however, being so near to him as she was. Perhaps this had always been their problem, she wondered; he was like a sponge, absorbing all good sense and logic from her body with his warm hands and intense gaze. What a trick. Her throat felt dry. “No poison.”</p>
<p>“No cheese knife,” he agreed.</p>
<p>They continued on. Charlotte would have preferred to walk all the way back to Seabreeze, but even traversing the street proved almost too much for her aching arches and pinched toes. Going up a hill in stilettos would have been akin to torture and she said as much to Sidney.</p>
<p>As he maneuvered them to his car, she was gripped with a terrible worry that whatever truce had fallen between them would scatter to the winds as soon as they reached the cottage; that they’d tumble back into old patterns and behaviors and leave one another more bloodied and bruised than before. But there wasn’t much time to ponder what-ifs.</p>
<p>Sidney helped her into the passenger seat and came around to his side. The car was started and the engine revved. With what she surmised as equally disconcerted nerves between them, they peeled away from the curb.</p>
<p>Though the drive was, in fact, a short one, it felt like they came around the hill and up the road to the cottage in half the normal time. The vodka-cran had lost its potency somewhere behind them, and Charlotte’s steady calm began to falter.</p>
<p>Sidney’s hand dropped to her bare knee.</p>
<p>“Was the hamster bleating again?” she asked, though her attempt at a light tone was belied by the wobble in her voice.</p>
<p>“A little,” he said, equally as light. “For what it’s worth, I’m nervous, too.”</p>
<p>“Are you?” she asked. Her hands were shaking. His, she could tell, were decidedly not. “You’re as steady as a rock.”</p>
<p>“Lots of practice in those boardrooms, as it were,” he replied. “Rather hard to seal a deal when the opposition can see you sweat.”</p>
<p>“On a scale of one to ten--”</p>
<p>“Ten, Heywood.” His fingers squeezed around her knee; once, twice. “If you haven’t noticed by now, then I don’t know what to tell you. You’ve always thrown me off my game.”</p>
<p>He parked. Before she could climb out, Sidney was at her door. His hand reached down for hers, and he pulled her up. They brushed together as she stepped aside. He shut the door.</p>
<p>The gravel and grass path leading from the side garage to Seabreeze was hell to walk upon. After attempting two teetering steps, Sidney swept her up in another bridal carry. She sucked in a loud breath. The memory of him doing the same the night had jumped forefront in her mind.</p>
<p>“Alright?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Absolutely,” she lied, hoping it was too dark for him to see the blotchy flush surely crawling down her neck. It was almost alarming how easily she fell under his spell. They’d need to put at least six feet between them and speak through a telephone at this rate. “We should change,” she blurted out.</p>
<p>They’d reached the door now. As he set her down, she saw his eyebrow quirk up. </p>
<p>“As people?” he asked.</p>
<p>“As in clothes,” she said. “You’re-- you’re too--” She waved her hand at him, at a sudden loss for words; stuck between sarcasm and fawning, neither of which she wanted to fully give into.</p>
<p>He unlocked the door and cracked it open. A look of bemusement had furrowed his brows together, but it broke suddenly and gave way to pure amusement. “Too hot? Too sexy?” he asked. “Too distracting?”</p>
<p>“Oh, shut it,” she said, but he had her number and he knew it. She brushed past him, chin raised, and he followed on behind smugly.</p>
<p>Resolved to ignore him, she sat at the bench in the foyer and began the process of removing her heels. Just as she’d unhooked one strap, Sidney knelt before her. One hand settled at the back of her ankle, the other went to remove the shoe. She sucked in another startled breath. He stroked her calf lightly, his gaze dark and knowing. A spark shot up her thigh as he traced his fingers up, higher and higher. Throbbing, phantom pleasure settled between her legs. Just as she was sure she’d go all the way -- he dropped his hand with a low chuckle. </p>
<p>She held the edge of her seat in a white-knuckled grip. She was breathing heavily now. “Stop that,” she ground out.</p>
<p>“Stop what?” he asked innocently; and proceeded to give her the same treatment on the other leg. </p>
<p>Unwilling and unable to fight the sensations so he easily wrought, her eyes closed and her head tipped back. </p>
<p>A slow drag of fingers pressed against her skin and moved into a gentle knead. The tension in her muscles, unused to the angle with which she’d carried herself all night, instantly released under his touch. A needy moan caught in her throat. Distantly, she heard her other shoe thump to the floor. </p>
<p>“Charlotte,” he said, the use of her first name sending butterflies fluttering in her stomach. He was burning hot against her, and she knew, somehow, that he was waiting for her to open her eyes and look at him.</p>
<p>When she did, the breath was nearly knocked from her lungs. The room tilted and twisted. No one had ever looked at her like he did now: with pure awe and reverence, as if he couldn’t believe he was here with her. Her cheeks burned. The scrutiny was almost too much to bear.</p>
<p>She swallowed thickly. She wanted more than anything to affect him as he did her.</p>
<p>“Sidney,” she replied.</p>
<p>The tension between them was a high-pitched buzz. </p>
<p>A beat later, it snapped.</p>
<p>He shot up and she slid down, the two of them dropping into a desperate, needy embrace half-way on the floor. </p>
<p>The spark between them had met kindling, and it was all-consuming and dizzying. Their lips met. They pulled at one another. Charlotte gasped into his mouth, deliriously on edge already. </p>
<p>They barely parted before another kiss took its place, but it was slower this time; tender and sweet.</p>
<p>Sidney drew back slowly, reluctantly. “We should change,” he said, parroting her words from before. “Seeing you like this is…” </p>
<p>Her lips curled up, pleased. “Distracting?”</p>
<p>He cupped her bottom. Her dress had ridden up a bit and the shock of sudden skin against skin made her gasp. “Very.”</p>
<p>Though a part of Charlotte would have been perfectly happy with distracting him further -- and letting him distract her in turn -- another round of sex was exactly what they both didn’t need. Not yet, at least. Tumbling into his bed as they'd had led to a rather unproductive morning and a day steeped in nothing but circuitous thoughts and regret.</p>
<p>Resolved, she stood. He did, too. There was naught left to be done but ascend the stairs and do what they both desperately needed: change into more comfortable, sensible clothing.</p>
<p>“So,” she said when they reached the top step. “Shall we… meet in the drawing room?”</p>
<p>He gave a nod. “In your frumpiest jumper, please.”</p>
<p>“Let me borrow your blue one, then.”</p>
<p>They shared tentative, unsure smiles. His hand brushed against hers and she swayed towards him, but that was all they both dared to do for now.</p>
<p>With a wordless promise to see one another soon, they parted ways.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i s2g this conversation is coming</p>
<p>again, THANK YOU to every single person who hopped on this crazy ride with me. i appreciate all of your comments here, on twitter, your kudos, etc.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><b>please note i chose not to tag everything</b>; we dive into both sidney and charlotte's pasts in this chapter, both together and apart. </p><p>please head down to the "end notes" for more 'warnings'</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After a heated internal debate, Charlotte settled on sleep shorts, a cozy pullover, and fuzzy socks her mother had knitted her last Christmas. She washed her face of makeup, moisturized, and brushed her teeth. Oral hygiene was always appropriate… and had nothing at all to do with the man waiting for her downstairs.</p><p>Minty fresh and as frumpy as she was willing to get, she left her room.</p><p>Across the hallway the doorway to Sidney’s room was open and dark. He must have preceded her. She hesitated on the landing for a beat; but, with a fortifying breath, she descended the stairs. </p><p>Each step chipped away at her courage. Intrusive thoughts leapt up and swarmed -- chirping noises that told her she was making a mistake. By the time she reached the main floor, she was ready to run back up the stairs again, but the sound of soft, familiar music playing down the hall hooked into her chest and beckoned her on. </p><p>He was playing Tenderly.</p><p>The drawing room was dimly lit; a side lamp on the end table casting a soft, golden glow. The doors to the terrace were open. Sidney Parker leaned against the frame, looking out at the seaward vista exactly as she had done her first night at Seabreeze. </p><p>At hearing her enter, he turned.</p><p>“Absolutely not,” she said upon seeing him. He was dressed like he’d stepped out of a magazine spread titled ‘Casual Beach Gent: Midnight Snack’: joggers, a long-sleeved grey crewneck, hair mussed more than usual. A pair of black-rimmed glasses rounded out his look. She hadn’t known he needed to wear them. “This--” she gave a top-to-bottom wave, “--can<em> not </em>be your idea of frump.”</p><p>“I own nothing ‘frumpy’, ‘dowdy’, or ‘ugly’, really,” he replied. </p><p>“And this was the worst you could do.”</p><p>He came towards her, hands catching under her elbows and drawing her into a loose embrace. “I couldn’t bring myself to embarrass myself in front of you,” he said gravely. “You look-- cute.”</p><p>Her traitorous arms wrapped around his middle; her face turned, cheek against his chest, and the ball of nerves that had tangled itself together inside of her began to unravel. “I am not cute,” she murmured, remarkably less unsure now that she was in his arms. It was so strange, she thought, that the very idea only a week ago would have repulsed her.</p><p>“I disagree. Cute socks,” he said, “maketh cute woman.”</p><p>She laughed a little. “You’re incorrigible.”</p><p>“But you like it. You like me.”</p><p>She shut her eyes and breathed, her reply caught in her throat. His words were deceptively light, but his underlying meaning plucked at her. The terror had crept in again. To be honest with him was to let him in on the worst parts of herself; to reveal the things she’d long hidden away. Bits and pieces she was less than proud of. But there was no way forward without at least looking back, no matter how painful it was to look upon. Perhaps together it would be easier to carry.</p><p>“I do,” she replied. “I hope that’s not a surprise.”</p><p>“Not at all,” he sighed. His lips brushed over the top of her head; his sigh ruffling her hair. His arms tightened around her a fraction. “This conversation, then...”</p><p>Reality set in. They weren’t simply hugging in the middle of the night, but giving one another comfort before the pain to come. She stepped back. “How d’you want to proceed?”</p><p>“Vertically,” he replied, “then horizontally.”</p><p>She rolled her eyes. “Let’s sit,” she said. “You must be so very tired carrying that large head of yours around.”</p><p>“And everyday I’m thankful you’re able to deflate it.”</p><p>They maneuvered to the couch. He sat at one end, her at the other. Simultaneously, they both turned to face one another. </p><p>Silence ticked by. </p><p>The space between them wasn’t overlarge -- Charlotte only had to shift her foot forward a bit to touch him -- but it served as a temporary refuge against further physical contact well enough. Eye contact, however, was another matter entirely.</p><p>She’d always considered herself an open book; the kind of person who wore their heart on their sleeve. Sidney Parker, however, felt like a fortress. Impossible to pierce until the drawbridge was down -- or he revealed himself on the ramparts to rain arrows down on her as she was battering against his defenses. </p><p>Was it healthy? No. </p><p>But <em> could </em>it be healthy between them?</p><p>Her hands began to tremble. “I’m not sure…” she trailed off.</p><p>“Not sure? Of us? Of talking?” he lobbed the questions to her gently.</p><p>“Where to start,” she finished lamely. Her throat was dry again. “I feel like-- like I have so much to say, but I don’t know where to begin. <em> Is </em> there an ‘us’? Was that ever an option? You said we wouldn’t end well.”</p><p>He looked away; his jaw tightened. “On the cliffs,” he began, “I yelled at you, Charlotte. For all the times you and I have butted heads, I’ve always prided myself on keeping control… even when I didn’t want to. But seeing you in the water like that--”</p><p>Her heart was hammering away. “Sidney…”</p><p>“It killed me,” he said. “You’re so damn stubborn, you know? If I told you you couldn’t fight the wind, I’m sure you’d find a way to try. You get under my skin. You frustrate me. You remind me that there’s-- more than a little bad inside of me.”</p><p>The German cuckoo affixed to the wall chimed, right on time. It was three in the morning. The hour of the devil was upon them. They shared a look; indecipherable and tense. Her eyes began to burn.</p><p>“You planned that perfectly,” she said. “That last bit. Jerk.”</p><p>He smiled, a little sad, a little crooked. “I felt like I had to put distance between us,” he continued, “otherwise I would’ve kissed you right then and there, in the water, on the rocks, and I’d rather you hate me for leaving you on the hill than hate me for doing something that you didn't want.”</p><p>“<em>Oh. </em>Hate you? Never.” She dashed her tears away. Her heart squeezed. “I wanted you to kiss me then,” she admitted. “Maybe even before that.”</p><p>“Shall we rewind?” he asked.</p><p>“How far back?”</p><p>He looked away. “To the moment you could tolerate me again.”</p><p>“Lately?” She covered her face with her hands, flushing. The answer, of course, was obvious; the beginning of the end of her good sense. He’d thawed her completely, dancing Tenderly with her. Peeking between her fingers, she said, “I-- I suppose I wanted you to kiss me during dinner. And you?”</p><p>“Heywood.” His eyebrows pinched together, confused; as if he’d been waiting for her to put the pieces of the puzzle together and was confused she hadn’t yet done so. “I’ve been half-gone on you for a while now. A year, maybe. More than.”</p><p>Her hands dropped. She grabbed a nearby pillow and lobbed it at him. “We promised to be honest,” she cried, half-laughing, because there was <em> no way </em>he was telling the truth. “Honest and frumpy!”</p><p>“You promised frumpy, not me, and you didn’t even deliver,” he said. His fingers encircled her ankle; a hot band that sent a shiver through her. He looked far too serious for having been assaulted by a decorative pillow. “Honesty, however? I’m verifiably veritable in what I say.”</p><p>“But-- we’ve been-- you’ve been--” She was lost for words.</p><p>“I’ve been a real bastard, I know,” he said. “Just as I know I’ll spend the rest of my life atoning for every horrible bastard thing I’ve said and done -- and not only to you, though I’m sure that’s a cold comfort, if a comfort at all.”</p><p>“God, this is hard,” she burst out. They’d gotten exactly nowhere and she was already in tears. She pointed at him. “And don’t give me any philosophical bullshit about ‘everything worth doing…’”</p><p>“Banned. Gone. I hate philosophy. Heraclitus who?” His thumb stroked her delicate ankle bone. He glanced away again. “We could… ask questions of each other. Anything at all.”</p><p>“Okay,” she said, feeling strangely delirious all of a sudden. She’d had two days’ worth of poor sleep and it was finally catching up with her. She pushed through. “Tit for tat?”</p><p>He inclined his head. “You go first.”</p><p>She bit her lip. “You said atoning, before,” she said, after a moment. “What are you atoning for?”</p><p>He gave a little punched out laugh. “A great many things. Where to start?” he asked. He leaned forward, thinking. “We have a tradition in the Parker family, you see. Goes back generations, though not every family set is so lucky to continue it: The eldest boy, Tom. Eldest girl, Diana. Middle is Sidney. Youngest is Arthur.”</p><p>She nodded. “Right,” she said, having heard of the Parker family naming conventions from both Arthur and Georgiana years ago. “But since Diana is the oldest--”</p><p>“She isn’t. Wasn’t.”</p><p>Her jaw dropped, confused and shocked and all the things in between. She hadn’t known of any other Parker brother but Sidney and Arthur.</p><p>“We had an older brother,” he continued. His free hand clenched into a fist. His eyes turned wet. “He’s been gone nearly a decade, now.”</p><p>“I’m so sorry,” she said. Suddenly, the distance between them was too much; she moved closer and twined their hands together. “Will you tell me about him?”</p><p>After a moment’s hesitation, Sidney did.</p><p>This generation's Tom Parker had been as gregarious and innovative as his predecessors; he loved Sanditon more than anything, and spent more than his fair share of time learning all there was to know about the little seaside town his forebears had created. He was the one who’d taught Sidney all he knew. </p><p>“He’d drag me hither and thither,” he explained, “and recite the histories until he was blue in the face. Then he’d make me do the same. He had a gift. A knack for turning whatever he loved into your passion, too.”</p><p>But as much as Tom Parker loved Sanditon, he, too, was just as in love with everything else. He’d traveled, seen the world’s wonders and sampled its delights, and lived a life larger than anyone Sidney had ever known. That wasn’t to say he was perfect: Tom Parker, like so many Tom Parkers, often got in over his head or bit off more than he could chew. He jumped before he looked and dragged the family into and out of messes constantly. </p><p>In spite of his faults, however, he’d been terribly loved; his loss keenly felt. </p><p>Family was family, and perfectly imperfect was how Sidney would always remember him.</p><p>“I had always been the sensible brother,” he said. “But after I’d heard the news, I spiraled. Hard. I convinced myself I was living how he’d want me to: drinking, fighting, gambling. Traveling on a whim, doing whatever and whomever I wanted. Among other vices.”</p><p>“How old were you?”</p><p>“Too old, perhaps, to act the way I was,” he said wryly. “Twenty-two? Twenty-three? I lost a lot of good things in the year that followed, including any substantial memories. My job. My girlfriend. Gone. Nearly lost Seabreeze, but-- that, in a way, had been the final straw for me. I woke up one morning and realized I was ruining what Tom loved most in the world: Sanditon.”</p><p>“<em>You</em>,” she said. Her cheeks were wet with tears, but she couldn’t bring herself to let go of his hands to wipe them away. “He loved <em> you </em>the most. I’m sure of it.”</p><p>“No. You don’t understand. Charlotte… before he died…” His mouth twisted. His chin dropped. “I didn’t pick up when he called. He’d left to climb K2 instead of attending Arthur’s graduation and-- we weren’t on speaking terms right then. I was so <em> angry</em>. A voicemail of him begging me to call him back is the last of him I have.”</p><p>Everything inside of Charlotte ached; her heart was torn, her body trembled, her head was throbbing. Being allowed past the steel wall of Sidney Parker was almost too much, but she held on; grateful for the gift she knew this was, painful and vulnerable and real.</p><p>“He died thinking I hated him,” he whispered, the words hoarse and roughspun, like he’d dragged them forth from the fiery pits within. “He died knowing his brother was vindictive and cruel. After everything he’d done for us--”</p><p>He choked off.</p><p>“You’re not,” she said. Her voice was steadier than it had any right to be. “And he didn’t.”</p><p>“I’ve been so lucky in my life. So, so lucky,” he said. “I have more privilege than I know what to do with; more money than sense. More love than I deserve. Despite all of that, I’ve hurt a lot of people, Charlotte. Including you -- and I don’t think I can ever forgive myself for that. I’m trying to be a better person, but there are parts of me that will never, ever be scrubbed clean.”</p><p>“I don’t need perfect,” she said. “No one is wholly good or wholly bad. We’re all just shades of grey, aren’t we?”</p><p>His eyes lifted to hers.</p><p>“I’m<em> tired</em>, Parker,” she continued. “I’m tired of pretending I don’t really, really like you. I was half-way in love with you when I was ten, and again when I was eighteen, and-- and it’s completely asinine and ridiculous to pretend like you and I aren’t inevitable now. I <em> like </em> you. Yes, you frustrate me. <em> So </em> much. And yes, there’s still <em> years </em> worth of crap between us to wade through, but… I want to stop running from you. I want you to let me in. I’m scared of what comes next, but I want it all. Everything. I want <em> you. </em>If you’ll have me.”</p><p>Their hands were squeezed together so tightly she was afraid they’d shatter, but she didn’t let go; she couldn’t.</p><p>“You’ve always had me, Heywood,” he said. His gaze was burning. “Ten?”</p><p>She flushed. “You don’t remember, I’m sure--”</p><p>“Of <em> course </em> I remember,” he cut her off. “But I was--” He shook his head. “I had braces and <em> spots </em>.”</p><p>Her entire view on life was beginning to shift; it felt like she was standing on quicksand. Had he remembered her this entire time? Pushed her away because of what he believed of himself? </p><p>She was ten; he was sixteen. Then, she was eighteen; he was twenty-four. They’d always been together, drifting in and out of their respective lives -- on the periphery, intersecting here and there, and never perfectly matched until now. She wanted to cry. She wanted to laugh.</p><p>“You gave us the time of day,” she said instead.</p><p>“Only because you and Gigi were relentless! You made me memorize Spice World; the whole damn song and dance. To this day, I could recite that wretched move in my sleep. Those Spice Girls were the bane of my existence.”</p><p>“Blasphemer,” she said, her voice catching on a sob. “How dare you besmirch them.”</p><p>“Alright,” he relented. “Tell me what you want. What you really, really want.”</p><p>“<em>Sidney</em>,” she laughed. “Are we really here? Finally?”</p><p>“It looks like it. <em> Charlotte</em>.” They released their hands, and he thumbed away her tears; pulled her face in to drop a tender kiss to her forehead. “Only it took years, heartache, bloodshed and tears to get us on the same page.”</p><p>“Typical Heywood-Parker,” she said, sniffling a bit.</p><p>“Ah, she cries for me,” he said softly. “I wish you wouldn’t.”</p><p>“You just told me an origin story that would be fit for a-- a movie or something. Of course I’m going to cry for you,” she replied. Exhaustion pulled at her now; the emotional kind. She held his hand against her face, sighing as she did so. “Can we move to the horizontal version of this conversation now?”</p><p>“A few hours of sleep,” he said. “And then.”</p><p>“And then,” she replied.</p><p>Charlotte barely remembered going back up the stairs nor entering Sidney’s room. As soon as her head hit the pillow, she was out.</p><p>When she next woke, bright afternoon sunshine was pouring into the room and she was curved against Sidney, her head pillowed on his chest. His arm was draped over her; the other was thrown over his eyes. She saw that his mouth was slightly parted; and, listening closely, she could hear a teeny-tiny wheeze of a snore as she breathed. She smiled, giddy in a way she hadn’t felt in years.</p><p>Despite two night’s worth of shoddy rest in a row, she felt extremely well-rested. There was a peace in coming to an understanding, even as tentative and tenuous as theirs was. The relief in knowing Sidney felt very much the same about her as she did him had been incredible, but she knew there were still threads to pull, and her own secrets to share.</p><p>She wanted to lie in the sunshine with him a little longer. She closed her eyes, and drifted; content and warm.</p><p>Time passed slowly; Charlotte reluctant to leave the comfort of the bed and the lazy, sleepy state she found herself in. Eventually, pressing matters -- the bathroom break kind -- could no longer be ignored, and she extracted herself from Sidney’s hold.</p><p>When she returned to his room, he was sat up in bed; visible relief crossed his face once he saw her.</p><p>“What’s wrong?” she asked.</p><p>“I thought you’d left,” he replied. “Again.”</p><p>She went to sit on the edge of the bed. The back of his hair was sticking up, and a pillow crease was on his cheek. Her heart squeezed. “I did… to handle morning matters. Unlike you, I am averse to bad breath.”</p><p>Lightning fast, he reached out and tumbled her underneath him. She let out a shriek of laughter, arms crossed above her head to prevent the rain of kisses he was attempting to bestow upon her -- but her reluctance was short-lived, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and let him in.</p><p>The morning continued under deceptive normalcy: Sidney went to handle his own morning matters, and Charlotte went downstairs to start tea and breakfast. When he joined her, he poured them both a cup; and she watched, curious, as he fixed hers exactly right.</p><p>“A year, you said,” she said, hip against the counter. She paused in buttering the toast. During their conversation last night, he'd asked her when she'd began to tolerate him again; and she'd asked him the same in return. Their answers had been so very different. “We all went out together for drinks. Georgiana was celebrating her promotion.”</p><p>“And you’d just finished your last year,” he said. “We sat next to each other.”</p><p>Her eyebrows furrowed. He was right. She remembered spending most of the night talking to him, actually; but it had felt like a fluke -- knowing the seating chart, Georgiana had asked her to play nice beforehand, and Charlotte had. “Oh,” she said. “You were-- you were actually trying.”</p><p>“Poorly done, I’d say.”</p><p>“I don’t think I would’ve believed you either way,” she said.</p><p>“I was a complete and utter asshole to you for so long,” he agreed. “One dinner wouldn’t have changed much.”</p><p>“Then--” She closed her eyes for a moment. “The nanny thing. You acted like you didn’t know me.”</p><p>“Not an excuse, but: I barely knew myself,” he said. “I was marvelously good at fucking up and it was just… easier to continue on that way. Maybe it was selfish of me, but I didn’t want to go from a hero in your eyes to-- to whatever mess I’d become.”</p><p>“I <em> was </em> really hurt, actually,” she said. “You know, they say the first time you see your parents acting human is when your childhood innocence leaves you. Maybe it’s much the same for those childhood heroes?”</p><p>“I’m sorry, Charlotte,” he said. “I really am.”</p><p>“I forgive you,” she replied. She set aside the butter knife and the toast; the anger and resentment she’d felt towards him had been so juvenile back then, and had transformed over the years and with his continued douchebaggery into something real, and cruel, and mean. She’d unjustly blamed him for her choices in the years that had followed, and hearing him contrite and apologetic now washed all of it away like water across the sands. Perhaps it was too easy to forgive in such a way; but if he meant what he said, then why couldn’t she? “After that second summer-- I went back to Willingden.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“And I got married,” she said. “Divorced a year later.”</p><p>“Charlotte…”</p><p>“His aunt demanded both. The marriage <em> and </em>divorce. I-- you see, I’d let myself -- how would they call it? -- be seduced. He was posh, and charming, and he read poetry to me. Compared me to the ocean and… well. I suppose I thought it was romantic.”</p><p>The story flowed from her: she became pregnant, and the bastard of a baronet, even in this modern day, would not do. His aunt had approached her parents; and she was eighteen, and it was Willingden, and a well-to-do, literal gentleman was asking for her hand. She said yes. The miscarriage came soon after, and the gaslighting followed quickly behind. The paperwork came for the divorce, and she’d signed it; but the damage had been done. Her life, much like Sidney’s, had fallen into what she’d come to discover was a cycle of anxiety and depression.</p><p>“Jesus Christ,” he said into the ringing silence between them. “Jesus <em> Christ</em>, Charlotte. I’ve been-- God, I called you a Sad Divorcee.”</p><p>“You didn’t know,” she said.</p><p>“It doesn’t matter.” He was shaking; from anger or some other emotion, she couldn’t tell. Her vision was blurred by unshed tears. “I’m so sorry,” he said; he scrubbed a hand across his face. “I cannot even begin to…”</p><p>“Does this change how you feel about me? Knowing what you know now?”</p><p>“No, of course not,” he breathed. “It makes me want to kill a man, however.”</p><p>“Let him ruin his own life,” she replied. She dashed her tears away; relief and pain in equal parts swirling inside of her like a whirlwind. “In the meantime: I don’t want to waste a single second more being unhappy, or worrying about the what-ifs. If you’re willing to jump, I am, too.”</p><p>He took her hand. “It can’t be that easy, Heywood. It just can’t be.”</p><p>“It is if we say it is,” she disagreed. “Maybe we can’t rewrite the past, but we can try to look at it differently. Can’t we?”</p><p>They shared a look; two people hurt and hurting, both by the world and one another. And there, reflected in his eyes, she saw hope; blossoming and beautiful and filling the cracks between them. His fingers squeezed around hers; once, twice.</p><p>“Breakfast, then,” he said.</p><p>“Breakfast,” she agreed.</p><p>A bright, blue sky greeted them outside; Sanditon’s promise of another fine day.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>warnings for: referenced emotional abuse, mental illness, and miscarriage; references to drug use &amp; alcohol abuse as well.</p><p>-</p><p>as a note: in 2015, i suffered a stillbirth. it took me many, many years of therapy and counseling to get to a point where i can talk about it and, i guess, sort of write a part of my trauma into a story; this was very emotional and cathartic to write for me. </p><p>please be kind, and be kind to yourself!</p><p>(if you couldn't tell, i was/am really nervous about posting this but i hope you liked it).</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i just want to say thank you so, so much for all your lovely comments on my last chapter. you, dear readers, are amazing. all my love to you. thank you to those who felt comfortable enough to share your own stories with me; and to anyone else who may be hurting, i know i'm only a stranger on the internet, but my DMs (@dansunedisco on twitter) are always open if you ever need someone to talk to. </p><p>-</p><p>fair warning: chapter is nearly 3k words worth of a sex scene. hope you enjoy it!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Since leaving The Folly, Charlotte’s phone had blown up.</p><p>Several texts from Georgiana implied she’d very much seen the scene Sidney and Charlotte had caused on the dance floor. </p><p>Charlotte scrolled through them all, her scandalization increasing with every message she read and every GIF she saw. There was no doubt in her mind her friend was enthused -- “I am the best matchmaker alive; Lindsey Lohan who?” -- but also mildly passive-aggressively annoyed that she had to discover such a turn of events along with the rest of Sanditon proper. Charlotte typed out a promise of a thorough explanation and hit send.</p><p>Georgiana’s response was immediate: <em> Dinner. Clara’s. 7pm. I already have reservations. BRING SIDNEY!!! </em></p><p>She set her phone aside. “Georgiana knows,” she told Sidney.</p><p>He smiled, a little crooked thing that made her heart pitter-patter. “She’s known,” he said. “About my… thing. For you.”</p><p>“W-what?” She laughed. It was all becoming so clear. “She ‘Parent Trapped’ us.”</p><p>Sidney pointed his toast her way. “I wonder if the ‘Otis surprise’ wasn’t actually the plan all along.”</p><p>“We have dinner with her tonight,” she said. She sat back, wondering what other puzzle pieces Georgiana had laid out like breadcrumbs, if she’d left them at all. Charlotte was beginning to wonder if she were actually as clueless and ignorant as this entire situation was making her out to be. “You can ask her then.”</p><p>"I'm looking forward to it," he replied.</p><p> </p><p>If Charlotte thought a night’s -- and morning’s -- long heart-to-heart with Sidney would resolve all tension between them, she was quickly disillusioned. Without the barrier of frustration, or annoyance, or heavy dislike, she found herself focusing on other things -- like the muscles in his forearms as he buttered another slice of toast; the cut of his jaw; the way the wind gently ruffled his hair.</p><p>Sidney Parker was unfairly gorgeous in the early afternoon sunshine, and all she could think about was--</p><p>“Tell me something, Heywood,” he said, breaking into her very impure thoughts. He tipped his sunglasses down and peered over them at her. A knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Are you thinking of fighting me right now? Or fu--”</p><p>Blushing furiously, she lobbed her crumpled up napkin at him. Was she that obvious? “It’ll be the former if you finish that sentence.”</p><p>He laughed, but he quickly sobered. His sunglasses were back up. “We can do whatever you want today,” he said. “Go for a walk, get food…”</p><p>“Oh,” she said, suddenly and strangely embarrassed. Obviously, their conversation hadn’t been a prelude to more sex, or<em> more </em>, in general -- and the idea that Sidney would rather go for a cliffside walk with her than sleep with her made her feel... It made her feel really, really bad, actually. Her lips twitched up. “Yeah, maybe a walk. That’d be nice.”</p><p>Sidney didn’t reply for a long moment. He set his sunglasses aside. He dropped his toast to his plate. “What just happened there?”</p><p>She tilted her head, confused.</p><p>“You were looking at me like I was breakfast two seconds ago,” he explained. “And now you’re… shut down.”</p><p><em> Be honest</em>, she thought. <em> Be open. </em>She gripped the arms of her chair and pushed through the rising desire to shut him out. “I thought-- after our talk… Is it too soon to talk about what ‘we’ are? Are we just friends, or--?”</p><p>“Charlotte,” he breathed. “We haven’t been ‘just friends’ for days. Months. Years, even. I think that’s been pretty damn well established by now. As for what ‘we’ <em> are</em>… right now? I don’t know. I don’t want to assume anything.”</p><p>“I don’t want to either,” she replied. She bit her lip. “We have a week left until we both go back to reality…”</p><p>“I can tell you my answer right now, Heywood. I don’t need a week to decide what I want.”</p><p>She didn’t either -- and it scared her. Beyond a few middling hook-ups since her divorce, Sidney Parker was the closest she’d had to a relationship in years. She was ready to move on with him. She <em> wanted </em>to move on with him. Knowing he felt the same was the safety net she’d been craving all morning, but she couldn’t find the words to say so. </p><p>Instead, she did what seemed to work so well for them and put into motion what words couldn’t.</p><p>She stood, and gave him her hand.</p><p>She led them to the beach chair; <em>his </em>chair. He sat, and she straddled him slowly. She looped her arms around his neck.</p><p>There was a moment she wondered if he knew what she meant to do, or if she’d have to tell him -- but his hands began to move on their own accord; his deft fingers sliding into her hair, craning her head back to bare her throat to him. </p><p>Her hands found his shoulders as her eyes fluttered shut. The sounds of the waves below and the sunlight streaming down on them transported her to the cliffside outcrop; the wind against the bare skin of her legs was the ocean water, his body the anchor point keeping her tethered to reality. Her lips parted. Her breath hitched. <em>Please,</em> she thought. <em>Show me you want</em> me.</p><p>This time, he kissed her; his lips found hers slowly, a gentle pressure of mouth against mouth that promised so much more. He caught her breathy moan with his own. They kissed, slow and languid and unhurried until Charlotte was a shivery, trembling ball of energy in his lap; she wanted so much more, she wanted everything--</p><p>“Charlotte,” he said her name, and it was a question.</p><p>“<em>Yes</em>,” she answered, because there wasn’t anything Sidney would do that she didn’t want.</p><p>He dragged her sweater up. The fabric bunched up around her armpits, and the fingers he had in her hair tipped her back; arching her at an angle to bring her breasts forward. Panting, she waited for his next move in aching anticipation.</p><p>There was no need for imagination here. A heartbeat later, he pressed a kiss to the swell of her breast; dragged his lips across her sensitive skin to suck at her nipple; a flash of teeth against her areola had her crying out, fingers spasming against the meat of his shoulders, but he was relentless. His tongue laved at her, swirling, flicking, licking, moving to the opposite breast and back without rhyme or reason. Much like oral, Charlotte had never found much pleasure in her breasts or nipples, but here, too, Sidney Parker excelled. Her center throbbed with heat at his every movement, and her hips hitched forward, desperate for the release he wasn’t yet willing to give her.</p><p>Time stretched and folded on itself. Charlotte tried to settle back or move closer, wordlessly begging Sidney to touch her elsewhere, but he only spread his legs; doing so spread hers further in the same movement.</p><p>In his hands, her back arched, her legs apart, it was impossible to move; she groaned, the feeling of being so tightly controlled sending a sickly strange thrill up her spine. Her chest was heaving now, and Sidney’s fingers tightened on her scalp, his mouth still on her breasts.</p><p>“Please,” she begged, her inner walls clenching down on nothingness. She was shaking. “Sidney--”</p><p>His teeth flashed against the swell of her breast. “Don’t move, Heywood,” he warned, and even this loss of contact was too much; she would’ve done anything to bring his mouth back to her, and she stilled, frozen and making little reedy noises, fingers bruising his shoulders until he resumed his ministrations.</p><p>He hummed against her, his free hand plucking and rolling one nipple between his fingers; then, with one long, hot tongue stripe against her nipple, he slid his fingers down her tight stomach and into her sleep shorts. His thumb found the hood of her clit between the cleft of her, and he began to circle it, tight and quick. It was too much. It wasn’t enough. Clenching down, Charlotte began to roll her hips forward, flirting with the edge of an intense orgasm. She moaned, she gasped, she--</p><p>She was being lifted up and carried. Her legs hooked around his hips.</p><p>“What--?” she asked, delirious and throbbing and confused. But Sidney only hitched her higher against him.</p><p>They went inside, and Sidney dropped her mercilessly on the couch.</p><p>“I’m not fucking you on the terrace,” he growled; in the same breath, he pulled her sweater up. She lifted her arms up to assist him; however, he made no movement to remove the article completely. Instead, the fabric tangled around her elbows and kept her arms up above her head. Her hands twisted together, eyes wide and wondering what he meant to do.</p><p>He kneeled on the cushion and lifted her hips up in one smooth movement; he’d pulled his joggers down over his hips, and he brought her flush against his thick, hard cock. He'd held her sleep shorts to the side, and the tension against her hips, the fabric cutting into her skin, was almost too much; but she <em> liked </em>it. She was so wet he slipped between her folds easily, and he set a slow, dragging pace that nudged the head of his cock against her clit with every pass. The look of concentration on his face was unlike anything Charlotte had ever seen; his sleeves pulled up over his forearms, his pants removed just enough. Though he was doing all this to her, knowing she affected him similarly made her squirm and shudder in the best way.</p><p>Just as she was getting ready to beg for it, Sidney drew back and slid into her with one long thrust. She cried out, back arched, as he stretched her and filled her; she didn’t think she would ever get used to it, the way he fit against her, not in a million years. With the way she was spread and held, she expected a bruising, rapid pace; but Sidney clearly didn’t do anything in half-measures. His hands on her hips moved her in a slow, dragging glide as he withdrew; slow, slow, and thrust back in; a quick, rotating snap that hit that spot inside of her that sent a bright, fiery wave of pleasure through her entire body. It also made her wetter; she could feel it drip out of her every time he withdrew. She wanted to say something -- anything -- but he couldn’t.</p><p>“Let go, Charlotte,” he said, voice low; the line of his neck was taut, the tendons in his forearms strained. She didn’t have the strength to hold herself up at this angle, and it became readily apparent this lack of control was the end goal. “Let me take care of you."</p><p>She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t respond. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, every point of her under the thrall of him; the sound of his voice bringing her off with a shuddering scream. Her body tensed up as she jerked against him, hips hitching desperately as he continued to fuck her through one of the most intense orgasms of her life. It didn’t seem possible, but she fell into an endless, bright stream of pleasure. There was nothing else in the world except Sidney and her, on the couch, in this room.</p><p>“You’re so beautiful,” Sidney was saying; he was moving in her still, telling her how much he wanted her, that she was perfect, that he couldn’t wait any longer. The angle changed again, and Charlotte blinked up at him, gasping, as she felt herself gush, wet, against him. She was--</p><p>“Oh, <em> fuck fuck fuck</em>,” came Sidney’s bitten off, groaned out reply. His chin was dropped to his chest, and she felt him throb inside of her; the wet heat of him as he spilled. “Holy fuck, Charlotte--”</p><p>His thumb wedged between them, a desperate bid to bring her off for the second time as he began to soften, and she felt the sparks, impossibly, ratchet up her spine -- but it wasn’t enough, the shock of his reaction to her and the way her body had reacted, to get her all the way.</p><p>The sound of him withdrawing from her made her flush and clench, the sudden emptiness in her making her rub her thighs together. He pulled the sweater all the way off her and sat her up; the sudden blood rush made her dizzy, and she settled against him, breathing heavily, sanguine and docile. He stroked his hands down her arms, and began to massage her forearms.</p><p>The next few minutes were a blur; he brought her water and she drank it, and he stripped her shorts off, and then she was being carried again. This time, they went up the stairs and to the left. Charlotte tried to protest, but Sidney made the trip seem impossibly easy. She wasn't sure she'd be able to make it up the steps, in any case.</p><p>“This is going to become a bad habit,” she murmured; her voice was unrecognizable; a low, hoarse rumble that hurt her throat. She touched her neck. How loud had she been?</p><p>“I hope this becomes a habit,” he replied.</p><p>“I meant the carrying.”</p><p>"That, too," he said.</p><p>They reached his room now. As he’d done before, he settled her gently on the bed; and, after removing his clothes, he joined her. They settled, curling together as naturally as breathing, but any further conversation was lost to their kisses.</p><p>Time melted away. As accomplished as Sidney was in other respects, Charlotte really, really enjoyed making out with him; his lips were soft, contrasted by the rasp of his stubble, and he didn’t <em> take</em>. He wasn’t needy or aggressive; he let her set the pace, let her guide him, until she was a shivery, needy mess in his arms.</p><p>He moved to hover over her; his hand brushed down her side as he looked down at her. The only way to describe him was: adoring.</p><p>“What?” she asked, weirdly shy under his scrutiny.</p><p>“Just thinking how this is the best holiday I've ever had,” he said.</p><p>Rolling her eyes, she pushed at his shoulder. “I’m sure Turks and Caicos would disagree.”</p><p>He kissed her, long and deep. He pulled back. “It has nothing to do with Sanditon,” he said, “and altogether to do with present company.”</p><p>She shivered. Her skin prickled. He could be so intense -- and sexy -- when he wanted to be; how she’d never resisted him, she hadn’t a clue. In this moment, she’d let him have whatever, do whatever, and all he was doing was <em> looking </em>at her, his hand stroking her hip. The heat was building in her again; the tension that was always between them pulling impossibly tighter.</p><p>“This doesn’t feel normal,” she said, her breath growing deeper and hard; all over a look and a touch. “I want you so, so much.”</p><p>“Completely normal,” he said, kissing her again. “I want you so, so much, too.”</p><p>Her knee dropped to the side, and she expected him to enter her, but he didn’t. Instead, he shifted down, dropping kisses on her chest, her stomach-- but her eyes popped open and her legs shifted, restless.</p><p>“Sidney, you <em> can’t</em>--” she said, propping herself up on her elbows. His cheek was laid on her thigh, one eyebrow quirked up as he slid his thumb up and between the cleft of her to play gently with her clit.</p><p>With a groan, her head tipped back, and she heard him ask, “What can’t I do, again?”</p><p>The heat of his breath against her shook her back out of her stupor. She fixed him with a look. “You-- you came in me,” she said. She doubted he’d forgotten already, but there was <em> no way </em> he intended to put his mouth on her now.</p><p>Instead of drawing back, reminded, his eyes darkened. “I know,” he replied, and the pressure of his thumb on her increased.</p><p>Her breath hitched. </p><p>He kissed the crease of her thigh; another one came next, closer to her mound, and she gasped; inch by inch, he moved, until he was right by his thumb; which he removed, and replaced with his hot, swirling tongue. She tensed, arched against him, the wicked thrill of having him eat her out as he was still inside of her crackling under her skin.</p><p>She spun off quicker than she thought possible. He worked her through it, slowing down as she came down from her orgasm; but he didn’t stop entirely, and as soon as she had cooled off, he began the slow climb of bringing her back to the edge. </p><p>She came again, and again, riding his face as he groaned and hummed against her as if he couldn’t imagine a place he’d rather be than between her legs.</p><p>He drew away with a final lick against her, but what she expected was the end was only the beginning. He turned her over, and brought her up onto her knees; her cheek against the sheets, arms curled into fists above her head. He took her this way, hard and fast; chasing his own pleasure. His fingers were tight on her, one palm pressed against her shoulder blades to keep her ass arched up, the other hand pulling her back against him in counterpoint to the rhythm he’d set.</p><p>Just as she was sure the torture would end, he pulled out; she expected him to finish on her back, or-- but he shifted, and she shouted, jerking forward, as he put his mouth on her, sucking and licking her clit from the back. Her toes curled. Her fingers twisted in the sheets. Her eyes clenched shut. He shifted back up and settled over her, his cock finding her soaked entrance easily and thrusting home.</p><p>Charlotte lost count of the cycle; him withdrawing, eating her out, thrusting back in. It was unlike anything she’d ever done, anything that had ever been done <em> to </em>her -- just as she thought he was ready to let her come, he changed something; the angle, the pace, the pressure.</p><p>“Please,” she was begging again, calling out his name and expletives with equal fervor, unable to do much more than let him do exactly as he wanted, and pray and beg that he give her release soon, because she was pretty sure she was going to die soon; wither to ash and float away on the wind.</p><p>Just as she was sure he was going to continue dragging it out, he settled against her for a final time, his hand enveloping her fist in his. The drag of his cock was exactly what she needed, how she needed it, and she came again; spinning off with another scream, barely muffled by the pillow she’d dragged closer to her at some point.</p><p>She sobbed with it, overwhelmed and overwrought, shivering and moaning as she felt him come in her again; her hips hitched up and back, her inner walls fluttering around his cock to drag out her pleasure further. </p><p>With deep, heaving breaths, they collapsed forward together.</p><p>Charlotte couldn’t move. In fact, she was sure she wouldn’t be able to move for the next few days.</p><p>A time later, a cup was pressed to her lips. She’d been turned back over and sat up at some point, and she greedily gulped the cool water down as reality began to set back in. She was thirsty, exhausted, and <em> sore. </em>She set the glass on the nightstand with a shuddering breath, and looked up at Sidney, completely and utterly bemused.</p><p>He was wearing shorts now, but he was still shirtless. Long, red scratches marred his torso, and a little red bruise marked the underside of his jaw. He looked well and truly fucked. She was relatively sure she looked the same.</p><p>“You alright, Heywood?” he asked. He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear -- a useless endeavor, as she could tell her hair was an utterly tangled mess.</p><p>“I’m recovering,” she said. Her voice wobbled. How long had they been--? How long had she been out? The bright afternoon sunshine was no longer so bright. “God, that was otherworldly. Don’t you dare even smirk at me right now.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, smirking.</p><p>She was too tired -- and satisfied -- to argue with any true heat. After checking the time, she realized they had a few more left to kill before they'd be expected at dinner with Georgiana.</p><p>She stood, and walked off towards the shower. She looked over her shoulder at him from the doorway with a smirk of her own. “Well?” she asked. “Are you coming or not?”</p>
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<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sexy remove to the shower Charlotte had planned rapidly became less so when she saw herself in the bathroom mirror. Her hair was worse than she ever could’ve imagined. Faint marks crisscrossed her skin, little bruises that told a very telling tale of where and what Sidney had spent hours doing to her. The very recent and very vivid memories flashed forward in her mind. A blotchy flush crept down her neck.</p><p>Sidney was not long behind, and caught up in time to see her press her fingertips against what looked suspiciously like a set of fingerprints against her hips. </p><p>His expression, to say the least, was contrite and troubled.</p><p>“Don’t apologize,” she said before he could say anything. She met his eyes in the mirror. “I liked everything we did. You’re quite… accomplished.”</p><p>He looped his arms about her with a sigh. “You should see what I can do with a pianoforte.”</p><p>She stifled a laugh against his forearm, though it was of no use. There was no hiding her good humor from him. “Is that how you look at me?” she asked. “A piano to be played?”</p><p>She felt light. Free. Flirty. She couldn’t remember a time when she would’ve happily stood naked with a man in front of a mirror, with all of her on display, but there was something about Sidney that put her entirely at ease. It wasn't that she disliked her body, or showing her body off, but sometimes her own appreciation was received differently than the appreciation of others. Sidney's gaze on her, however, was now warmly welcomed.</p><p>He kissed the shell of her ear. “I’m warning you,” he said gravely, “I’m two seconds away from saying something completely, utterly, <em> disgustingly </em>romantic.”</p><p>“Don’t let me stop you,” she said, the heat between her legs growing. “Go on."</p><p>“You are the most beautiful woman I ever have seen in my entire life,” he said, “and I want to spend the rest of time worshipping you in every possible way I know how.”</p><p>“You’re right,” she said, her hands tight on his arm. She shivered in his hold; her skin prickled, her nipples tightened, and her hips hitched back, a phantom memory guiding her against him. She bit her lip. “That was impossibly disgusting. I don’t know how I shall bear it.”</p><p>His arms tightened around her slightly, and he gave a little huff of laughter as if he were surprised he’d pulled such a physical reaction with her. “The Insatiable Miss Heywood,” he murmured.</p><p>He looked entirely too self-satisfied for Charlotte’s tastes, and the fever to knock him down a peg or two -- playfully, this time -- flared up. She gave as good a smirk as any of his, and swayed her hips back and forth to rub against him. His gaze clouded over ever so slightly. She felt him twitch and begin to harden. </p><p>“Perhaps you’ve actually left me <em> unsatisfied</em>,” she said tartly. She hummed in thought. “The Unsatisfied Miss Heywood has quite the ring to it.”</p><p>“And a patently untrue one,” he said, voice low. He cupped her breast in one hand, his thumb brushing across her nipple in an agonizing, delicious drag.</p><p>Her breath hitched. “If you say so,” she replied, breathy and high.</p><p>Never one to back down from a gauntlet thrown by one Charlotte Heywood, Sidney’s hand made its slow, teasing travel downward, but as soon as he parted her folds, she gasped -- and not with pleasure.</p><p>He withdrew immediately. “Are you--?”</p><p>She was oversensitive; and, rubbing her thighs lightly together as a test, possibly just as bruised as the rest of her body. In truth, she had never had a sexual experience the likes of which she’d had with Sidney; long, drawn-out, and all for her pleasure instead of his. </p><p>She was certainly no virgin, but she’d never… well… limped away from a partner or wondered how long it would take before she could sit normally. Stripped thoroughly now of the afterglow, Charlotte realized her soreness was rather more pronounced than before.</p><p>“I’m fine. I believe you might’ve stroked my keys for a bit too long…” She covered her face with a laugh, a little embarrassed at having started something she couldn’t finish without a fair amount of discomfort on her part -- and then stumbling into his corny joke from earlier. “Raincheck on me?”</p><p>“Of course,” he replied, and immediately moved to disentangle himself.</p><p>Charlotte halted him. His gaze was questioning. She answered with another ground of her hips, shuddering as much as he did as she found his cock still hard and thick against her.</p><p>Perhaps they were <em> both </em>insatiable.</p><p>“Get in the shower, Parker.”</p><p>
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</p><p>The shower was a tighter squeeze than Charlotte would have thought, but with an actual, productive wash not yet on the docket, it served her purposes well enough.</p><p>Water sluiced down her neck and back, hotter than Sidney’s warm skin to her front. Her arms were around his neck, his hands were on her ass, and he was rubbing himself shamelessly against her as they kissed. Steam billowed up around them as time slipped away.</p><p>Even as sore as she was, Charlotte’s center throbbed with heat and she felt herself getting wetter and wetter as they moved together; the easy glide of the water between them guiding the way.</p><p>The idea of pushing through whatever pain would come danced in the back of her head, but that was a selfish plan; a self-serving idea. This time, she wanted Sidney to feel as good as he made her feel. No reciprocation needed.</p><p>She fit her hand between them. Her fingers encircled his cock. He felt him twitch and harden further as she explored the silky feeling of him.</p><p>His eyes blinked open, but she set a slow stroke that quickly brushed aside any confusion as to what she meant to do. His hold tightened as he drew her ever closer, and their kiss grew messier, heavier.</p><p>She increased the pressure of her grip on his cock and sped up her strokes, her thumb cresting over the blunt head of him with every other pass. The wet sounds of them together made her breath catch. She could feel his cock as it brushed against her stomach; she could feel the coarse hair of his body. They were so close together. He was making little hitching noises against her mouth, his hips thrusting forward in her grip as if he couldn’t help the motion.</p><p>A prickle of insecurity washed up Charlotte’s spine -- a handjob in the shower couldn’t possibly be as good as anything he’d experienced before, but suddenly, his fingers tightened in her wet hair, and she felt a burning hot splash across her stomach. Sidney groaned, trembling; the syllables of her name mouthed quietly against her lips.</p><p>The shower water quickly rinsed away the evidence that he’d come, but his weak smile and loose limbs gave him away after a moment. He kissed her tenderly, and held her, and she sighed in the circle of his arms, ridiculously happy to have given him a small slice of the pleasure he’d given her.</p><p>
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</p><p>Afterward, they washed one another. </p><p>It was a silly, domestic event. Maneuvering around one another, they found a way to make it work in their own way. Sidney poured too much shampoo out on Charlotte’s hair and lathered her up to ridiculous proportions as she scrubbed him vigorously down with body wash. </p><p>“Now tell me, what scent is ‘Power Crush’ exactly?” she asked, spending perhaps a moment too long soaping his armpits with the aforementioned ridiculously named soap. She’d recently discovered he was ticklish and couldn’t yet let it go.</p><p>He squeezed his elbows to his side, trapping her hands where they were. “It’s not my fault marketing companies do what they do,” he groused. A soapy beard, courtesy of her retaliation efforts, currently clung to his jaw, and jiggled as he talked. “Plus, I’ve seen you sniffing me, Heywood. Don’t pretend you weren’t affected by my ‘Power Crush’-enhanced pheromones.”</p><p>“I had no choice but to ‘sniff’ you this entire holiday thus far as I always, somehow, ended up in your arms,” she said, laughing. She remembered Mary’s Beach, then, and their slow dance on the terrace. The cliffs; the club. All the times he’d pulled her close and indeed into his arms. She stepped closer. “You couldn’t well keep to yourself.”</p><p>“No,” he replied. “I never really wanted to.” </p><p>He kissed her then, soapy beard and all.</p><p>For a time, the idea of a shower was forgotten.</p><p>
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</p><p>Later, Charlotte and Sidney found themselves back to where they’d started: on the bed. </p><p>This time, however, they were clothed; and, by all accounts, cuddling. Sidney lay on his back; Charlotte was tucked up against his side.</p><p>The sounds of the ocean came in through the open window; a rhythmic, gentle rush.</p><p>A quiet daze had fallen on them both since lying down, and thankfully Charlotte had had the wherewithal to set an alarm on her phone otherwise she was sure they’d both remain exactly where they were now for the rest of their days and miss dinner with Georgiana entirely.</p><p>As the minutes ticked by, Charlotte felt herself drift deeper and deeper into the state of dozing, riding the line between wakefulness and sleep until she felt herself slip into a vivid daydream.</p><p>It was one of an endless Sanditon summer with no responsibilities. Sidney in her arms; her in Sidney’s arms. Walking the beach hand-in-hand. Climbing up the cliffs and plunging into the ice-cold water, again and again. The hot sunshine on her skin and the gentle wind in her hair; the sand between her toes and not a single care or worry in the world. Roller skating down the promenade. Singing together in the middle of the night. It was an overlapping mix of all their overlapping eras, merged together in one perfect, wondrous day. She wanted to stay there forever, with him, and pretend there wasn’t another place that beckoned them both beyond.</p><p>As with all good things, of course, the dream came to an end.</p><p>A buzzing noise pierced the quiet.</p><p>Sidney was stroking her arm and whispering in her ear. “Wake up,” he said, “wake up, Charlotte…”</p><p>She stirred and wiped the tears from her eyes, confused as to why she was crying in the first place. With a deep breath, the wisps of sleep floated away to a brighter, more real reality, and she understood.</p><p>It was almost time to leave.</p>
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<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you for reading!</p><p>here's a double feature chapter for you wherein the reality of the coming week begins to set in &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They took Sidney’s car into town.</p><p>It was a lovely evening for a drive, the sun setting over the horizon and turning the sky another beautiful burnt orange-red. Sidney took the winding road slowly, holding Charlotte’s hand across the center console most of the way. He squeezed his fingers around hers at random. They’d forgone music tonight, but neither of them filled the silence between them with idle chatter. </p><p>The further they traveled from Seabreeze, the higher the tide of nervousness crept upon Charlotte. In a way, leaving the comfort of the cottage on the hill made her conversation with Sidney, and everything that had transpired since, all too real. There was no running from what had happened. In fact, she was literally driving into Sanditon to receive that reality check.</p><p>Georgiana -- and everyone else in The Folly, too -- had seen her and Sidney flee the scene together. Perhaps they’d had enough to drink that it’d become an easily forgotten event by sunrise, but they had been witnesses nevertheless: Charlotte and Sidney had absconded to Seabreeze, together, and had, for a time, created a little world together.</p><p>Sidney’s thumb rubbed across hers, and she realized she was squeezing his hand rather hard now. She relaxed her grip and gave him a smile, a shake of her head; <em> it’s nothing</em>, she tried to say, and he chose to believe her.</p><p>So much had changed in so little time. Though it felt like much longer, they were coming up on a week. Seven days since she’d arrived in Sanditon with Georgiana -- and as the minutes ticked by, Charlotte realized the hazy, floating dream she’d found herself in had to end. She had to think beyond next week; beyond the next few kilometers.</p><p>Sidney was a very busy and important man. Charlotte herself, though perhaps not yet considered important, was just as busy, too. If not more so. She had a life in London, just as she’d told James Stringer. A small flat. A scheduled routine she’d perfected; with a route to work, and evening drinks with her co-workers every other week. She saw Georgiana even less, though they still maintained frequent contact on social media and FaceTime calls. Before coming to Sanditon, it had been… well, she couldn’t even remember a time when she’d been on a date. She’d been too busy; too focused.</p><p>Despite her holiday, her drive to succeed hadn’t diminished -- even if it had been pushed, rather thoroughly, to the recesses of her mind.</p><p>No matter how she looked at it, the fact of the matter was there wasn’t a Sidney-shaped hole left in her life. She didn’t think he had a Charlotte-shaped silhouette in his either. </p><p>As much as she wanted to try, the daydream of their perfect day fell away to a harsher one: a return to their respective lives; exchanging messages and phone calls at first; trying to meet and never making it quite work; their contact dropping off, day by day, until they both had to come to the conclusion that it never, ever would work between them. Lying in his arms, it all seemed so simple. But life was never so easy.</p><p>She thought back to all the time they’d crossed paths over the years. While they were significant milestones, yes, they <em> were </em>infrequent. She’d had to bear the brunt of Georgiana’s complaints on multiple occasions as he missed holidays here and there. The one year she’d come to Sanditon for Christmas, he’d been away in Dubai.</p><p>Was that the future that awaited them?</p><p>They pulled up to the curb a little off <em> Clara’s </em>hidden corner before the subject could be breached and Charlotte quickly shelved her thoughts.</p><p>Though she’d already exited the car, Sidney came around to her side and shut the door for her.</p><p>“Such chivalry,” she remarked, trying to dash away her uneasy thoughts with easy banter.</p><p>After doffing his imaginary cap, he offered her his arm. “Ma’am,” she said, “if I may escort you.”</p><p>“I’m not sure it would be entirely proper, sir, on account of my delicacy… but just this once can’t hurt, I suppose,” she said, looping her arm around his with a cheeky smile.</p><p>They walked on. </p><p>A few late-leaving beachgoers were getting in their cars as they passed, and as the boot of one car was slammed shut, Charlotte saw that it belonged to none other than James Stringer. </p><p>Her heart thumped. With some shame, she remembered she’d also neglected him the other night, leaving him on the dance floor with Georgiana and Otis, and hadn’t even sent him a message of apology afterward. Surely he’d wondered where she’d gone. She imagined his kind nature only went so far and he now harbored some ill-will towards her -- and just as she'd owed him her honesty, she owed him an apology now, too.</p><p>She touched Sidney’s arm and looked up to see him already looking down at her.</p><p>“I’ll just be a minute,” she said, and left Sidney to cross the street.</p><p>“Charlotte,” said James upon seeing her. Though she did not deserve it, he looked pleased at her sudden appearance. With a glance over his shoulder, he continued on, “I see ‘complicated’ was resolved, then?”</p><p>“Yes, and no,” she said, and quickly shook her head. Trotting Sidney out in front of him wasn’t her reason for coming over. “Look, James… I want to say I am so very sorry for-- for leaving you as I did in the club. I know you don’t know me well, but I <em> promise </em>I am not usually such a shit friend. It was very badly done.”</p><p>“I understand, and you’re forgiven,” he said. Everything about his posture and tone was utterly sincere. “We’ve all had those nights.”</p><p>Somehow his easy acceptance made apologizing even worse. He really was a good man. “Let me know when you’re back home,” she said. “I owe you a big, big cup of coffee. Or whatever it is you like to drink.”</p><p>“You really don’t, but I’ll take you up on the offer anyway,” he said, and that was that.</p><p>She returned to Sidney’s side as James’ car pulled away from the curb and into the night.</p><p>“Sorry,” she said to Sidney as they began again to walk, feeling more off-kilter than she had in days.</p><p>“What’re you sorry for?” he asked, but she hadn’t a response to give.</p><p>Her thoughts were running, faster and faster. Seeing James had served as yet another reality check, unexpected and unsettling. It dug deeply at her conscience.</p><p>Though she’d told James she wasn’t normally a bad friend… did that statement actually hold true?</p><p>Charlotte liked to believe she was a true and loyal friend. A good person, in general, though she had her strong-will and temper. But she’d recently made a string of choices she wasn’t entirely proud of, and now she wasn’t sure how to reconcile them with her own inner image.</p><p>Before going out to the club, though she’d had ample time to do so, she’d chosen not to confide in Georgiana the myriad things that had happened between her and Sidney. Not only that, but she’d specifically invited James to The Folly because she’d intended on ‘washing Sidney Parker out of her hair’... with him. She’d then left the club without telling her friends, and she hadn’t bothered to let them know she was safe and well until her phone had blown up.</p><p>Flipping back through how she’d treated Sidney from her first day on holiday, her heart jumped into her throat and her stomach plummeted to her feet. How could he even stand her? They had history and chemistry in spades, but--</p><p>She pulled Sidney to a halt before they’d turn the corner to <em> Clara’s</em>. She was digging herself deep into a tunnel of self-doubt and she needed to quit, immediately.</p><p>Her line of thinking was flawed.</p><p>Georgiana had never, ever once judged her. Not even when Charlotte had told her the whole ugly truth about Edward Denham. No, she’d been the shoulder upon which Charlotte cried her heart out -- and, with a weird, sudden settling of clarity, she realized that was what she was afraid of now, truly: her friend looking at her askance as she fell into another heated, potentially messy relationship with a man who held her fragile heart completely in his hands.</p><p>“Are you… not worried?” she asked Sidney, who was looking at her now with bewilderment. “Because I have to say, Sidney, I am literally <em> terrified </em> of what Gigi is going to say to me when we go into <em> Clara’s.</em>”</p><p>He held her hands and brought them up to his chest. “If anyone is getting berated tonight, it’ll be me,” he said. “I’ll make sure of it. You even have my permission to toss a glass of wine in my face, if you so choose.”</p><p>She wanted to roll her eyes, but held off. “Be serious!”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he said, seemingly realizing she was not at all in jest. “Unless I’ve read all this wrong, I don’t believe Georgiana will protest overmuch about us… becoming an ‘us’... if that’s what you’re worried about.”</p><p>“But I am,” she said. “She knows my history. More than anyone, really. I don’t know what to expect. I think she’s -- hurt, really. I didn’t tell her about our hook-up before The Folly. In fact, I haven’t told her much of anything that’s happened between us this entire holiday.”</p><p>“When would you have had the time?” he asked. “She’s with Otis.”</p><p>“That’s not fair,” she said, even though the thought had indeed crossed her mind a time or two. The holiday had started with her alone almost from the start, and beyond breakfast and the nightclub, she hadn’t seen or heard much from her best friend.</p><p>“Neither is it fair that she left you at a cottage with a strange and deranged man,” he replied, putting her thoughts into words -- though not so much about him being 'strange' or 'deranged'. “Regardless of her apparent intentions of pushing us together, you and I have spent more time on this girls’ trip than you and her. It’s -- I know it’s a Gigi and Otis thing, but… if I weren’t here, would you be alone?” </p><p>She shifted on her feet, her backbone wilting as she realized yet again Sidney was actually -- and had been -- upset on her behalf. She swallowed. “That’s for me and Georgiana to discuss,” she said with finality because it was, and for once, she knew they would.</p><p>He nodded. He brought her hands up and swept a brushing kiss across her knuckles. “Of course,” he said. A faint smile tugged at his mouth now. “After all, I’m only here for the shovel talk.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Whatever vision Charlotte had of the alleged ‘shovel talk’ -- which, admittedly, involved Georgiana with her arms crossed and an ax laid across her knees -- disappeared as soon as she and Sidney stepped into <em> Clara’s</em>.</p><p>Georgiana beamed upon seeing them.</p><p>Suddenly, Charlotte’s uneasy mood began to dissipate. What had she to fear? She wasn’t, in fact, a Regency-era maiden who required her father’s permission for marriage, nor did she need her best friend’s ringing approval --  though the latter, of course, would make her feel much better overall. Considering Georgiana had nudged Charlotte in this direction, she was sure it was already won, and rather ridiculous if not. Indeed the sole point of her worry was the <em> way </em>Georgiana had discovered her attempts at matchmaking had come to fruition -- but even that was a faint and unusual blip in the course of things, and she knew her friendship with Georgiana would weather any storm, just as it had all these years.</p><p>“<em>There </em> you two are,” said Georgiana, sweeping Charlotte into a tight hug before releasing her to give Sidney a playful punch to the arm. “Spare me the details as to <em> why </em>you’re both late, but -- you’re late!”</p><p>Sidney and Charlotte exchanged looks.</p><p>“Did she place a bet?” asked Charlotte, voice low, as Georgiana hustled them all to the back corner where Otis waited for them with a friendly wave. “She’s very… <em> happy.</em>”</p><p>“Incandescently so,” he replied. “What d’you figure the over-under was on Heywood-Parker?”</p><p>“Astronomical, whatever it was,” she replied, but any further private talk was waylaid as they met Otis, did a round of introductions, and sat.</p><p>Because there, gleaming under the low-lit light of the table, sat the fattest, shiniest diamond ring Charlotte had ever seen -- except for, perhaps, on the pages of gossip rags -- on Georgiana’s finger.</p><p>Charlotte gasped, shocked. “<em>What </em>is that?” she asked.</p><p>Georgiana, who never giggled, giggled. “I <em> know</em>,” she replied, fairly buzzing with pent-up excitement. She flashed her hand towards Sidney briefly. “I’m engaged! Otis asked me just this morning--”</p><p>“I’ve been wanting to for ages,” Otis cut in.</p><p>“--And since he leaves for Seattle in two days--”</p><p>“I thought, where better than the place she stole my heart away?”</p><p>Charlotte shook her head. “But you two met in London,” she said, but that wasn’t quite the thing to say when your best friend became engaged, was it? “I am so happy for you both. Congratulations!”</p><p>Sidney, who’d remained eerily silent until now, asked, “Champagne?”</p><p>A bottle of bubbly was ordered and uncorked, and during the course, Georgiana and Otis recounted their engagement story, which, for all the fizzy romance in their relationship, was a rather simple one.</p><p>Though it made little sense to her, Charlotte found it rather difficult to muster much enthusiasm. She laughed on cue, and smiled, and asked the appropriate questions at the appropriate moments, but the happy glow of the couple sitting across from her and Sidney quickly burned her out.</p><p>Perhaps Georgiana had been passive-aggressively annoyed with her earlier in the day, but it was clear any foul mood of hers had been eclipsed by her love for Otis, and his love for her, and just as Charlotte had been set aside at the start of their holiday, again was she set aside here. </p><p><em> Get yourself together, Heywood</em>, she thought.</p><p>Why did she find it so easy to approach a near stranger and apologize, and yet so incredibly difficult to tell Sidney exactly what was on her mind? Why could she stand up to him when she thought he was being unfair, but not to Georgiana when she was doing the same? She took a sip of her drink, wondering how she could’ve started off her day so high, only to end it feeling rather very low. </p><p>As soon as the food was ordered, the mood of the table shifted yet again.</p><p>“Well,” said Georgiana, smiling, “enough about us…”</p><p>The expectant silence that followed hung between them all, and Charlotte realized with a start that that had been her cue to start her own gushing. She glanced at Sidney, who was looking resolutely at the tabletop, and found that she didn’t even know where to start the story. Nor, now that she thought of it, did she feel particularly comfortable regaling the entire table with it.</p><p>“Sidney and I talked,” she said, after a moment, “and we had a lot more in common than I thought.”</p><p>“First name basis now,” remarked Georgiana. “I love it.”</p><p>“Would now be an appropriate time to add, ‘I called it’?” said Otis.</p><p>“Right? You two’ve had these <em> vibes </em>for so long. It was like watching a Lifetime movie, the way the both of you got on. The ultimate will-they, won’t-they!”</p><p>Charlotte smiled weakly. “Well, hopefully we didn’t drag it out too long for the audience…”</p><p>Thankfully Charlotte was saved from making further television-related puns and jokes as their drinks were brought to the table, followed quickly behind by their food.</p><p>Once the normal lull of eating passed, Sidney picked up the next leg of the conversation.</p><p>“So, Georgiana,” he said, “once Otis is off, will you be staying with us at Seabreeze?”</p><p>Georgiana and Otis looked at one another, and Charlotte’s senses began to tingle. Before the pair even spoke, she knew exactly what was coming next.</p><p>“In light of everything--” Georgiana looked down at her ring here “--Otis and I thought I could follow him to Seattle. I’ve never been.”</p><p>Sidney’s fork clattered to the table. “Are you serious?”</p><p>“It’s an idea,” said Otis, placatingly.</p><p>“If a purchased ticket is an idea,” Georgiana cut in, now turned to Otis.</p><p>Otis’ eyes turned soft. “G--”</p><p>“Hold on. Were you <em> ever </em> planning on spending time with Charlotte, <em> your friend</em>?” asked Sidney, incredulous.</p><p>Georgiana turned back to Sidney. “Of course, but I didn’t expect a proposal!”</p><p>The argument unfolded like fireworks, fuses lit one by one and popping off, noisy and bright, and Charlotte sat back as a strange, serene calm washed over her. The lens on her life shifted, just a bit, and she was dosed with a bit of clarity.</p><p>Much like her assumptions with Sidney, Charlotte had always assumed Georgiana knew how she felt every time she’d been left in the dust for Otis -- and that wasn’t fair. She’d told Georgiana ‘the more the merrier’ at the start of holiday, had feigned surprise and happiness, and hadn’t once uttered a word of protest the entire week they’d been apart. Perhaps, to Georgiana, the idea of being left alone for yet another week with a new lover was the greatest gift Charlotte could have been given. Charlotte would never know if she didn’t ask. And Georgiana would never know that she hurt Charlotte if Charlotte herself never said so.</p><p>But the dining room of <em> Clara’s</em>, with Sidney and Otis in tow, was not the place for this particular discussion.</p><p>“Sidney took me cliff jumping!” she burst out, and three pairs of eyes -- and perhaps a few more from the nosey onlookers at nearby tables -- swung to her. It wasn’t her smoothest attempt at diffusion or a subject change, but it nevertheless did the trick. “Has he ever taken you, Georgiana?”</p><p>Georgiana’s eyes narrowed for a beat before deciding to follow the line Charlotte had desperately cast. “No,” she said, “because he <em> sucks </em> and hates me having one single iota of fun.”</p><p>Sidney made a noise that really could not be described in any other way except as a harumph. Charlotte nudged his ankle with her foot, imploring him to behave on her behalf. To her surprise, it seemed to work.</p><p>“The weather looks best on Monday,” he said, though his tone was filled with all manner of reluctance. “If it holds, we can all go.”</p><p>Charlotte didn’t miss the mild flicker of shock that crossed Georgiana’s face. “And you two can stay for dinner,” she said, “before you two lovebirds leave us for rainy Seattle.” She had dropped her hand below the table before she’d spoken and now gently squeezed Sidney’s thigh, trying to wordlessly tell him not to pursue a fight further.</p><p>“I was promised no rain,” said Georgiana, and Otis dropped a fond kiss to her temple as he cut eyes at both Charlotte and Sidney that insinuated that the promise, perhaps, had been a bit fibbed on his part.</p><p>“Diving and dinner,” declared Otis, “what more could we ask for?”</p><p>The rest of dinner passed as normally as it could between the four of them, an established couple and one that hadn’t yet established itself at all, as well as friendships that spanned all manner of time. </p><p>It was clear to Charlotte that Otis was trying to make a very good impression on Sidney -- he was the pseudo-older brother, after all -- and that Sidney was willing to be impressed. Together, they fell into a wash of technical jargon that Charlotte didn’t even want to pretend she understood.</p><p>The moment of relative privacy had arrived, and Charlotte reached out for Georgiana’s hands. “Holy fuck, Gigi,” she breathed, gently turning her hand’s friend this way and that to admire the sparkle yet again.</p><p>“It’s not too much?”</p><p>The ring wasn’t at all a dainty little thing, but the cut and the setting fit Georgiana’s hand perfectly. “Not at all. Otis chose well,” she said. “I’m sorry if I didn’t seem-- overly happy. When you told us, that is. I’m very excited for you.”</p><p>It was barely noticeable, but Georgiana’s shoulders inched down a bit. “And you’ll be my maid of honor?” she asked, hands squeezing around Charlotte’s. “I wanted to ask you in a very cheesy way, with a huge sandcastle or something, but--”</p><p>“Yes, of course,” said Charlotte, “a thousand times yes.”</p><p>The ladies were suddenly overcome with summer allergies of some kind and spent a few moments sniffling and dabbing their eyes.</p><p>“Now that that’s out of the way…” Georgiana trailed off, and gave Charlotte an expectant look and a none-too-subtle gesture at Sidney.</p><p>Charlotte laughed a little. “Am I to believe you’ve been fiddling on the roof this entire time?”</p><p>The story came out in bits and pieces: Georgiana had suspected Sidney’s feelings were rather less harsh than Charlotte’s own during last year’s dinner party, and had conspired, in her own way, to get the pair of them in a room together ever since. “But you’re both so busy,” she said, “my earliest chance was basically kidnapping you to Sanditon now. I just knew something had to give. I thought I’d be a little more involved in the process, but…”</p><p>“Otis came,” she said,  “Which… G, I know I said I wasn’t mad, but-- this was supposed to be a trip for us, wasn’t it? I was really looking forward to spending my holiday with you.”</p><p>There was a moment Charlotte thought Georgiana would go on the defensive, but she didn’t. “I’m sorry, Charlotte,” she said, after a moment’s contemplation. “I haven’t done a great job of considering your feelings, have I?”</p><p>“Not really, but perhaps you shouldn’t have to. I’m trying to work on being more… assertive… in some respects,” replied Charlotte. “I think I’m kind of intimated by you.”</p><p>“By<em> me? </em>” laughed Georgiana. “If anyone should earn your bare honesty, it’s me!”</p><p>“You’ve always had your shit together,” she replied, trying to put the feeling into words. “You’ve always known what to do and what to say, while I’m… I’m over in the corner, biting my nails and overthinking every single move in my life.”</p><p>Georgiana’s gaze softened. “I never knew you felt that way,” she said. “I always thought you’d tell me off like you do everyone else.”</p><p>Charlotte blinked. She was truly beginning to think she was the Queen of Assumptions, unmatched in her abilities. “Don’t you worry. I’ll speak my mind from now on,” she promised.</p><p>“Please do,” said Georgiana. “And I’m going to cancel my flight.”</p><p>“You don’t have to do that--”</p><p>“I do, and I will. It was a last-minute, crazy idea,” she insisted firmly. “Otis will be working the entire time, and goodness knows he’s going to see enough of me for the rest of his life. This holiday was meant for us, wasn’t it?”</p><p>Charlotte nodded slowly, her thoughts selfishly turning to where Sidney would fit into this girls’ trip now.</p><p>But Georgiana must’ve had similar thoughts, as she turned to Otis and said, “This is very, very important: remind me to buy ear plugs ASAP.”</p><p>Sidney gave Charlotte a searching look, and all she could do was reply with a helpless shrug.</p><p>A time later, they left <em> Clara’s</em>, all seemingly in much higher spirits than before. Otis had handled Georgiana’s spur of the moment cancelation of her spur of the moment tagalong with aplomb, and Sidney immediately offered her lodging at Seabreeze once more. Everything fell into place, all because of a little honest conversation.</p><p>With a promise of Monday’s adventure to come, the couples parted ways; Georgiana and Otis to their hotel, Charlotte and Sidney to the promenade.</p><p>“That wasn’t so bad,” said Charlotte, as they turned off the main road and followed the signs directing them to the beachwalk. Despite the rocky start to the evening, she felt rather settled now. “Ended rather well, I’d say. You and Otis seemed to become fast friends.”</p><p>“I like him. He makes Georgiana happy, which is what matters most.”</p><p>Charlotte smiled to herself. “They are happy, aren’t they?”</p><p>“I think so,” he replied. “How did you convince Georgiana not to leave?”</p><p>“I didn’t,” she admitted, and quickly walked him through their conversation. “Is it weird that I’m a bit disappointed?”</p><p>“That she’s staying?” His hand brushed against hers. “Depends on the reason for said disappointment.”</p><p>“It has nothing at all to do with you and the fact that our alone time will be cut short,” she replied, biting her inner cheek to keep a straight face. All her overthinking, in hindsight, felt rather silly now, though she knew she and Sidney would eventually have to talk about their future beyond Sanditon. “Just so you know.”</p><p>“Of course not,” he said, equally as straight-faced. “That would be utterly ridiculous. After all, I’m just the random <em> dude </em>you’re staying with who gives you multiple or--”</p><p>A young family out for an evening walk was passing them by, and Charlotte tapped her elbow into Sidney’s side, who responded with an inelegant, “<em>Argh</em>.”</p><p>“Keep it clean, Parker,” she said, though she was rather more breathless in her admonishment than she ought to be. The reminder that they’d spent the better part of the morning and afternoon having sex -- wherein multiple orgasms had indeed occurred -- had hit its intended mark, and she entertained the idea of pulling him off the paved path toward seclusion.</p><p>Before she could, however, a voice rang out into the night.</p><p>“Sidney!” it said, the pitch and tone decidedly female. </p><p>Both Charlotte and Sidney turned, and indeed the owner of the voice looked to be a very elegant woman who was now rapidly gaining on them. A handsome older man, looking rather put-out, trailed behind her.</p><p>“Fuck,” she heard Sidney say under his breath, and Charlotte watched as he literally pulled himself up to his full height.</p><p>Before she could ask what the hell was going on, the woman was before them. She was tall, willowy, and very blonde. She wore the kind of outfit that looked appropriate on the cover of a vacation magazine and probably cost more than Charlotte’s entire wardrobe. </p><p>Charlotte, who rarely cared what strangers thought of her, felt very cheap and young in comparison. It was a feeling compounded by the fact that the woman very clearly had eyes for Sidney and Sidney only, as if Charlotte were merely a piece of beach debris standing next to him.</p><p>“Sidney, darling, I <em> thought </em>it was you,” the woman breathed. Her hand came out to touch Sidney’s arm, a light yet possessive touch.</p><p>The older man reached them at last. “Parker,” he said, and Sidney and he shook hands. </p><p>“Mr. Campion,” replied Sidney. He half-turned towards Charlotte and started to say, “Might I introduce you both to--”</p><p>But the woman, who may or may not have been Mrs. Campion or his daughter, cut in with an apologetic smile: “We don’t want to take up any more of your time,” she said, which seemed a ridiculous statement to Charlotte considering they’d practically run down the promenade after Sidney in the first place. “We just wanted to say <em> hello </em>and let you know we are both extremely excited to see you at the investors’ luncheon.”</p><p>“Of course,” said Sidney, which Charlotte recognized as his ‘business’ voice, “always a pleasure.”</p><p>After a few more meaningless pleasantries were exchanged -- which did not include Charlotte at all, though to his credit, Sidney did try -- Mr. Campion and the potential Mrs. Campion made their way back to the main road.</p><p>As if they’d both weathered a passing storm, Charlotte and Sidney exhaled together.</p><p>“Investors’ luncheon?” asked Charlotte, after a moment. They began to walk again. “Should I even ask?”</p><p>“It’s as bad as it sounds,” he replied. “D’you remember when you saw me at The Folly? That was step one in the elbow-rubbing schmooze-fest that is my life.”</p><p>“I can’t say I’ve ever had to club for work.”</p><p>“I wine and dine, too, and sometimes kiss babies and bejeweled hands if required,” he said. He paused, then asked, “Would you like to come?”</p><p>“To the luncheon?” She laughed. “Mr. and Mrs. Campion barely acknowledged my existence. If they’re the general type in attendance, I can’t see how I’d be allowed through the door.”</p><p>“You’re equal to, if not better than, anyone who’ll be at that damn luncheon,” he said rather fiercely, and Charlotte felt a flash of pleasure in his confidence in her. “Plus, you’d be doing me a favor, keeping me sane as I’m forced to eat blancmange.”</p><p>“You’ll have to try much harder than that to convince me to come.”</p><p>He stopped them and pulled her into his arms. He brushed her hair back over her shoulder, looking deeply into her eyes. A faint smirk played at his mouth. “You walked right into the innuendo, Heywood,” he said, “and I firmly accept the challenge.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*a wild plot joins the chat*</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>another smut-filled chapter; enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They walked the length of the lit promenade, Charlotte leaned heavily against Sidney as he guided them away from Sanditon’s downtown. All thoughts of luncheons, blancmange, and Campions disappeared as they crossed under the last of the gas lamps and into the dark.</p>
<p>“Careful,” said Sidney, as he helped her over the affixed stanchion that separated the main walkway from the beach path. He pulled her close as soon as she was over the chain, his hands roaming along the lines of her body as if ensuring all of her had successfully made the trip.</p>
<p>It was nearly pitch black outside, cloud cover obscuring the light from the moon, and a wicked thrill shot through Charlotte as she pulled his face down by the ears to kiss him. They could have turned back and gone home to Seabreeze, but she was impatient to have him and happy they hadn’t. And here, in the dark, out in the open, she felt incredibly fearless. Sex in public had never crossed her mind, except as a passing fancy, but with Sidney… She felt a flash of heat gather low in her stomach at the idea.</p>
<p>“Is this where you plan on convincing me?” she asked. The stanchion was pressed against her backside. Square lights from town dotted the night like stars, far, far away. Unless someone came close to peer into the darkness, they wouldn’t be seen. “Right here, on the beach?”</p>
<p>Sidney was breathing a little heavier than before. Perhaps he hadn’t thought she’d want more than a few kisses in the dark. Perhaps that’s all he’d intended to do. Charlotte wished she could see the look on his face, the way his eyes darkened and his pupils widened as he realized what she was offering, but seeing wasn’t a part of the game she knew she’d inadvertently started.</p>
<p>“Is this where you want it?” he asked, voice low. He found her mouth again, a barely-there press of his lips. She strained up to meet him fully but he pulled away just in time. “I asked you a question.”</p>
<p>She shivered at the sound of his husky, demanding voice. He hadn’t raised it above a whisper, but it felt overloud in her ears. The heady haze of arousal had already half-swept her away. “Yes,” she answered, barely able to get the word out for how tight her throat was.</p>
<p>“Yes… what?” His hand came up to cup her breast through her dress, his thumb sweeping across her clothed nipple as she arched her back, wordlessly asking for more pressure, more anything, but it seemed Sidney had no designs on listening to what her body wanted. He wanted to hear her ask for it: “Tell me what you want me to do, Charlotte.”</p>
<p>“Kiss me,” she said, and he acquiesced; but, to her consternation, he moved his hand away from her breast and to a safer location on her waist. She pulled back, blood pounding hard in her veins. “Sidney…”</p>
<p>He kissed her again, tongue darting forward to play with hers as she opened to him. She looped her arms around his shoulders and pressed herself against him, restless and growing needier by the second, but Sidney did not relent. He took no cue from her leg hitching up over his; no heed as she began to grind her hips into his. She felt him grow hard in his trousers; she felt his heart thumping in his chest, right alongside her own. As attuned to her needs and wants as he’d been, Charlotte knew his lack of reaction was purposefully done, and he’d meant what he said: he wanted her to tell him what she wanted.</p>
<p>“Tell me how you like it… don’t be embarrassed,” he murmured, somehow striking her right at the core of her problem just like he always did.</p>
<p>She flared with sudden irritation and broke the kiss, cheeks flushed hot. “I’m not--” She swallowed. God, she <em> was </em>embarrassed. The idea of opening her mouth and telling him exactly what she wanted was almost as bad as preparing herself to leap off the cliffs and into unknown waters below. What if she said something incredibly stupid? What if he laughed? She shook her head. She couldn’t speak.</p>
<p>After a long moment, Sidney’s finger came under her chin and tipped it up. He found her lips with his; a gentle, sweet press that lulled her back into the comfortable push and pull between them. </p>
<p>“You’re so beautiful,” he said between breaths, swallowing her answering moan with another tender kiss. He held her against him now, one hand wrapped loosely around her neck, the other palming her ass. There was no urgency in his movements, but Charlotte could feel the churning current under all his control as he said, “I could kiss you all night long… is that what you want?”</p>
<p>Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, realizing at once that he’d taken the lead and was now handing the reins back to her -- if she so desired to take them. Only a faint outline of him was visible to her in the darkness, and she felt the tiny knot of uncertainty that had curled itself up impossibly tight within her loosen ever so slightly. He’d always made her feel impossibly good during their lovemaking; sexy, hot, and desirable. It was only in the throes of passion that she dared give voice to her desires… and the idea of doing so now, fully aware and deliberate, was both scary and exciting.</p>
<p>“I want you to…” She laid her hand over his and slowly dragged it down from her neck to her breast. With a firm press that couldn’t be construed as anything but complete and utter consent, she plunged forward from the precipice and said, “I want you to play with my breasts.”</p>
<p>His breath caught for a moment. Then, his thumb brushed against her nipple, delicate and featherlight. “Like this?”</p>
<p>Her eyes fluttered closed. “Harder,” she breathed, “you know I like it harder…”</p>
<p>It was rude -- though accurate -- to say the noise he made in reply was a snort, but he immediately did as she asked, and Charlotte quickly lost herself to the sensations he so easily plucked from her. He hitched her up against him, hips grinding, as he rained fevered kisses down on her and pinched and rolled her nipple through the material of her dress and bra. She held on, hands clutching at his neck; his shoulders; his hair.</p>
<p>Sidney tipped her head to the side and moved to kiss and suck at her neck, teeth flashing against the delicate skin as his tongue laved, hard and then soft, at her thudding pulse point. </p>
<p>She imagined him hiking the hem of her dress up and pulling her panties down. She imagined him getting to his knees. She imagined him lifting one leg over his shoulder and pressing his mouth against her wet, throbbing cunt -- and she let the words pour forth, unashamed to be telling him her fantasy, moaning desperately as his fingertips dug into her flesh like if he couldn’t help but possess her more fully.</p>
<p>“Tell me,” he said, “tell me--”</p>
<p>“Get on your knees,” she said, hardly believing she was the woman ordering him down, and yet he dropped to the sand all the same. He held her ass with both hands, and she found her balance with her fingers threaded through his hair. The flash of pleasure in this position was unlike anything she’d felt before, so different from regular desire or arousal. It was pure power, knowing he was as equally under her spell as she was under his. That he would do whatever she asked, because <em> she </em> was the one who was asking.</p>
<p>And he did exactly what she described, pulling her panties down her legs and lifting one thigh to rest on his shoulder. She was exposed to him for only a moment before his mouth was on her, his burning hot tongue licking a strip up her slit before he swirled it firmly against her clit. She hissed. The metal stanchion dug into her back, but discomfort bled away as Sidney ate her out; noisy, messy sounds that reminded her they were not<em>, </em>in fact, in the comfort of a home, but on the beach. All it would take was someone to walk all the way down the prom, or flash their phone light down the path, and --</p>
<p>She cried out as Sidney sucked her clit between his lips; she cried out again, this time in shocked frustration, as he stopped and pulled away.</p>
<p>“You need to be quieter, love,” he said, his tone teasing as he stroked his hand up and down her thigh that was currently leveraged upon him. “Though getting arrested is a perfect way to end the--”</p>
<p>“Enough talking, Parker,” she cut him off, though she thought the bossy effect was rather diminished by her squirming and panting. She wanted him to <em> shut up </em>and put his back mouth on her. She gripped his hair, hard. She imagined herself as a conquering queen being worshipped at her altar… even if said altar was merely an iron stanchion placed in cement. “I want you to eat me out until I come, and then I want you to fuck me. Right. Here.”</p>
<p>“Jesus Christ,” Sidney swore, and there wasn’t much room for talking -- on his part, at least -- thereafter.</p>
<p>The rush of the ocean and the noises Sidney made between her legs drove her to the edge. It was the perfect mix of adrenaline rush and pleasure, the idea that someone, anyone, could catch them in the act -- and Charlotte didn’t hold back in chasing her own, grinding her cunt against Sidney’s face without shame. </p>
<p>She came a heartbeat later, catching the wave of her orgasm and riding it to completion, shuddering and gasping and clenching as she curled in on herself. The vague notion that she would’ve tipped over into the sands floated through the white noise, but Sidney’s hands were strong and steady, and then it was only a matter of getting him on his feet and undoing his zip.</p>
<p>She tasted herself on him when he kissed her, her groan muffled as he lifted her up and seated her down onto his thick, hard cock. She was so wet and so ready she barely felt the stretch of him, and they began to move.</p>
<p>She knew Sidney was strong -- she’d seen him unclothed enough to realize he was perfectly sculpted, muscles and soft planes in equal parts --  but the strength of him as he fucked her now drove her delirious. Were impeccable core strength and deadlifting ability her new turn on?</p>
<p>“Oh my god, you’re<em> unreal</em>,” she gasped out, literally shuddering on his cock as he drove her up and down on his length. She could feel the strain of it on him as he tensed and flexed, and yet he didn’t move to shove her back against the stanchion for purchase.</p>
<p>“All that--” he lifted her up, “--gym time--” and he slammed her back down, “is finally fucking paying off.”</p>
<p>She hadn’t the words to tell him she’d like him no matter what he looked like. She’d thought he was the most handsome boy on earth, skinny arms and spots and all; and again when he was a little older, clean-shaven, barely reformed public-school playboy. And now, a little older still, stubble bordering on beard: “You’re perfect,” she said, eyes clenched shut and on the verge of coming on his cock, her ultimate beach sex fantasy come true, “this is perfect-- I-- I’m--”</p>
<p>She kissed him, rough and sloppy, and shuddered apart in his arms. Whatever he was holding back snapped as she clenched down tightly on him, and she held for dear life as they tipped and tumbled into the sand below. After a moment, and a few curious swivels of Charlotte’s hips, Sidney groaned in relief -- and perhaps a little pain.</p>
<p>Panting heavily as she tried to regain her wits, Charlotte slid off Sidney and to the side. The sand below was cold, and a little damp, and she was suddenly reminded why most people complained that the reality of beach sex paled considerably to the fantasy of it. Sand, like glitter, got everywhere and was near-impossible to completely banish. Though sand in unwanted crevices was probably the least of their worries.</p>
<p>Laughing a little to herself, she dearly hoped they would not run into any other young families on their way back -- or nosey, elegant rich women and their maybe-fathers -- because she was quite sure anyone who would see them right now would know exactly what they’d been doing on the beach.</p>
<p>“I think my brain is leaking from my ears,” said Sidney, once the air between them had cooled a bit more. He sounded drowsy and content. “Just… gone.”</p>
<p>“I’m impressed the brain lasted as long as it had,” Charlotte replied solemnly.</p>
<p>“Me as well.”</p>
<p>“Seriously though. You did all the work. Again.” She squeezed his bicep, and he immediately lifted his arm up for an obligatory flex. It wasn’t her favorite Sidney Parker bulge, but -- it would do. “How do you do that?”</p>
<p>“My imagination always powers me through. Your legs wrapped around me, on the beach, moaning my name… Ah, yes. Better than pre-workout.”</p>
<p>She slapped his chest. “You pervert,” she laughed. “Come on, let’s go before we’re thrown in jail, or worse -- invited to another luncheon!”</p>
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<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you again for reading -- we're slowly but surely reaching the end for these two lovebirds!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Righting themselves in the dark was a hopeless case, and Charlotte and Sidney climbed back over the stanchion chain and into the light looking rather worse for wear. Rumpled trousers, creased dress, tousled hair; damp, sandy, and dazed.</p><p>“We look--” said Sidney, shaking his head.</p><p>“We do,” she agreed, trying and failing to hold back her laughter. But there was naught to be done but head back and hope they did not encounter any Sanditon wildlife.</p><p>Halfway down the promenade, Charlotte realized what was missing. “My panties!” she gasped. They were her favorite pair -- a triple-threat in that they were cute, functional, and never betrayed her with a panty line. “I need to go back!”</p><p>“No, you don’t,” said Sidney. Out from his pocket came said panties, but any attempt from Charlotte to retrieve them was thwarted. He was tall and very determined to keep possession. “D’you really want to put them back on?"</p><p>“No,” she hissed, glancing around. They were alone, but did he really need to dangle them aloft like some sort of flag? “I can put them in my purse.”</p><p>“Or you can let them make a home in my back pocket for the time being,” he offered, sounding amused. “I promise I won’t steal them.”</p><p>“You best not,” she said. “They’re my favorite pair.”</p><p>He tucked them away. “They’re safe,” he said gravely. “I give you my word.”</p><p>“Well,” she sighed, “if it’s your <em> word</em>.”</p><p>They linked hands and continued on their way. The walk felt longer on the return and the nip in the air made Charlotte shiver, but she didn’t complain. She didn’t<em> want </em>to complain. The sleepy little seaside town waited for them beyond. The sea was lapping against the shore. There was something about the quiet that felt ethereal; tranquil.</p><p>Perhaps it was the afterglow that lingered, the stars that dotted the sky, or the handsome man smiling next to her, but Charlotte felt -- <em> happy</em>. Safe. Seen. Even though she knew there was yet another hill to climb, it didn’t feel half so daunting between them now as it did when they’d first left for the night.</p><p>Thinking back to their recent lovemaking, she marveled at how Sidney put her at ease and how easily he was able to submit to her whims. Though the current of their relationship thus far had slanted antagonistic, he’d so readily adjusted to one where they could laugh together just as easily as they came together physically.</p><p>It made her wonder, too.</p><p>“Have you ever had, um, sex on the beach?” she asked, failing at maintaining a casual tone even to her own ears. “The act, not the drink. Or I suppose you can answer for both.”</p><p>“I’ve never quite done<em> that</em>,” he replied, “on the beach, in a room, or anywhere else. But I do enjoy a good fruity drink.”</p><p>“I find that hard to believe.”</p><p>“The sex, or the cocktail?”</p><p>“Both!” She laughed. “You’re -- come on, Sidney. You know exactly what you’re doing when we have sex. Like -- you just <em> look </em>at me and I’m…”</p><p>“You’re…?”</p><p>Charlotte refused to meet Sidney’s eyes, already feeling herself becoming inexplicably affected by him. There was something about the tone of his voice that<em> did </em>something to her. It would have been deviously unfair, except she really, really liked it when he turned it on her with purpose. Sex with him, beyond being extremely pleasurable, felt completely different than any other experience she’d ever had. It was perfect chemistry. Or perhaps it would’ve been more apt to say they were like two magnets; more alike than they’d perhaps want to admit, yet different enough to heed the call that pulled at them.</p><p>“Charlotte?” Sidney prompted.</p><p>“Sorry. I got lost thinking about-- magnets,” she said. She cleared her voice. Why was she so breathy? </p><p>“Because I have such a <em> magnetic </em>personality?”</p><p>“A negative one,” she replied. “Panty stealer.”</p><p>He laughed, and pulled her into a hug under a nearby lamp. “A penny for your thoughts, Miss Heywood,” he said, “because I’m not quite sure where you’re steering us right now.”</p><p>She looped her arms around his waist and tilted her face up, which he rightfully took as a cue for a kiss. It was short and sweet, and Charlotte felt the proverbial sand shifting under her feet as she pulled back to look up at him.</p><p>As the light from the lamp haloed around him from above, she could almost see the younger version of him; double vision of past and present.</p><p>“You used to have shorter hair,” she said, a memory floating up unprompted. “It was blonder, too.”</p><p>“Don’t remind me,” he said. “It was almost as bad as when I’d grown it out.”</p><p>She couldn’t remember a Sidney with long, dark hair, and she gave a forlorn sign at missing an entire era. “Have pictures of said ‘long hair’ survived the ages?”</p><p>“I’m sure there are,” he said, sounding none too happy about the prospect. “I could ask Diana -- she and Arthur hired an archivist last summer to sort through the old family papers. I’m sure there’s a very embarrassing photo album floating about the catalog I could borrow.”</p><p>“You’d do that for me?” she asked, genuinely touched.</p><p>He seemed surprised by her question at first, then troubled. “Of course,” he said. “Of course I would… and I’m sorry that I ever made you feel like I wouldn’t.”</p><p>Charlotte’s heart picked up the pace.</p><p>“I didn’t make it easy for you to open up,” she admitted, thinking of all the times she’d assumed or snapped at him over trivial, little things. Their first dinner. She’d struck a nerve, then. Looking back, she could see him trying, almost desperately, for her to ask a question untainted by its usual venom, but she hadn’t seen the olive branch for what it was. Of course, it hadn’t been completely her fault. “Though sometimes it did feel as if you went to great lengths to be… unknowable.”</p><p>“It was part purposeful, part not,” he said, after a moment’s thought. He met Charlotte’s gaze with open honesty. Without quite meaning to, it seemed that they’d steered themselves back into another important conversation. “As fucked up as it is, I’d gotten into the habit of our antagonistic back and forth. It was easier taking whatever I could from you -- ire, frustration, annoyance, <em> anything </em>at all -- than putting in the work to alter course. I saw you so infrequently.”</p><p>As hard as it was to hear he’d been living contently with the status quo, Charlotte understood. It would have been hypocritical to argue otherwise, as she herself had had the same mindset as he. “I get it,” she said. “Letting people in is… <em> hard</em>. Harder still are the ones who know all the buttons to press to set you off, if they want to.”</p><p>“And by god, how you know my buttons,” he laughed.</p><p>“<em>Me?</em>” She pressed a hand to his chest. “Don’t even, Parker. You were born to bother me.”</p><p>“I’m your elder, so I believe it would be the other way ‘round.”</p><p>“Protest my ‘bothering’ all you want,” she said, “but I know you love it.”</p><p>A beat of silence hung between them as Charlotte realized she’d used the word<em> love </em>in relation to their relationship, and a silent, internal alarm began to blare in her brain. Even without a set boundary between them, she felt like she’d innocently overstepped whatever it was that ‘they’ were, and she felt her stomach sink.</p><p>Just as she was about to begin a series of damage control protocols, he gave her a wry, teasing smile. “I do, actually,” he said. “Being ‘bothered’ by you has been the highlight of my day for a very, very long time.”</p><p>“Even when I’ve been vicious?"</p><p>“Especially then," he replied. "Fair's fair, and I've been equally as bad."</p><p>For the second time in the same night, Charlotte was reminded of how her relationship with Sidney had turned almost completely around in a span of a week -- and that their time of lying in bed for hours, talking and not talking, was soon coming to an end. Her nerves, already a bit tattered and frayed from the rollercoaster ride that was this entire day, suddenly split:</p><p>“That's crazy, right? Being so mean to one another and then just-- not. Every time we have sex, it’s like… there’s this crazy chemistry between us. And then afterward, when we're talking -- I feel like I’ve never known anyone half as well as I do you, and you me, but… we’re still strangers, aren’t we? It’s been <em> three </em> days,” she said, nervous yet strangely unafraid. “I want to stay here, in Sanditon, on this beach, with my arms wrapped around you forever. But that’s not a realistic dream. And speaking of ‘sex’, I mean, you <em> have </em>to know you’re next level, right? I can’t imagine it’s from lack of experience or practice… and there is absolutely no judgment from me when I say that. I don’t believe in slut-shaming. I mean-- I know it’s a bit different between men and women; society and the patriarchy--”</p><p>“Deep breath, Heywood,” he said, gently. “Let’s rewind and walk through the points.”</p><p>“Alright,” she agreed, after taking the aforementioned deep breath into consideration. “Yes. Rewind. In the matter of Heywood-Parker, the first point of contention: chemistry.”</p><p>“Chemistry I will jot down to the fact that you are, like I said, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen -- no eye-rolling. I am deeply in earnest,” he said.</p><p>“Sorry,” she murmured. “Continue lavishing me with compliments.”</p><p>“I will,” he said seriously. “You’re gorgeous… smart, driven, and you constantly keep me on my toes. Talking to you is never dull. Plus, you’re a great dancer and an even better cook.”</p><p>She looked up at him, eyes bright. “Oh my,” she said, smiling. “I’m fit to swoon, Mr. Parker.”</p><p>“I’ll catch you,” he said. His arms were firmly around her. “If you let me.”</p><p>She closed her eyes for a second, her stomach swirling. How did he always say exactly the right thing and yet not sound completely cheesy? “And the second point?”</p><p>“We’ve been in each others’ lives for years,” he replied. “You’ve literally seen me at my best, and my worst -- core contents without the usual frills. Hence the intimacy, yet also the unknown. But the little things, like your favorite color, or your favorite thing to cook, or the places you want to travel will come with time.”</p><p>“Yellow, my grandmother’s Christmastime roast, and I want to see Paris, even if it’s not as magical and romantic as the movies make it out to be,” she replied.</p><p>Sidney huffed a small laugh. “I don’t want this to end in Sanditon,” he said, after a long moment.</p><p>“I don’t want it to end either,” she said, finally putting into words the truth of the matter. “It just feels so-- <em> intense </em>between us. So intense and it all happened so fast. I’m standing here with you, and there’s a part of me that thinks maybe it shouldn’t be as easy as it is. I know I said it could be, but… I’m scared. I’m scared the magic of summer will pass us by and we’ll both regret everything.”</p><p>“All I know is that from the moment I saw you in Seabreeze again, all I wanted was a second chance,” he said. “My biggest regret, after all these years, was deciding to let the people I care about think I didn’t care at all. I’ve wasted years of my life to it. I know that when we go back to London, neither one of us can promise smooth sailing going forward. But if you’re willing to try, so am I. I’m all in, Heywood. You gave me that second chance. I don’t want to spend a single minute more without you in my life.”</p><p>Charlotte was more than a little lost for words.</p><p>Sidney Parker had once more surprised her with his candor. She’d suspected he was a secret romantic the moment he’d asked her to sway with him on the terrace, but here he was: declaring it. The crocodiles swimming in the mote had retreated; the archers and their arrows had gone. Somehow she knew, without quite knowing how she did, that the drawbridge was down and he was inviting her completely in.</p><p>Her heart felt full to bursting and she couldn’t stop smiling.</p><p>“Kiss me then,” she said, and he did.</p><p>
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</p><p>This time, the ride back to Seabreeze was light and loud. Charlotte had stolen the aux cord and plugged her phone in, blasting her New Music Friday playlist as Sidney took the winding road back home. </p><p>“There is no way you know all of these lyrics,” Sidney said after a minute, toggling the volume down just enough to be heard.</p><p>“It doesn’t matter,” she declared, grooving to the beat as one did and singing along to a snippet of the song’s catchy and repetitive chorus. “But if you <em> insist </em> on singability, I can always put on something we <em> both </em>know by heart--”</p><p>“No!” he cried, but it was already too late: the 90s had called, and Charlotte readily answered.</p><p>With less coaxing than Charlotte thought he’d require, Sidney joined in, and they duetted all the way back to their little cottage on the hill. </p><p>He parked in front of the garage, and he again came around to her side as she climbed out.</p><p>Perhaps she seemed a touch exasperated -- she was an independent woman, after all, and could open and close doors on her own -- because he took her hand in his and said, “You can tell me if you don’t like this.”</p><p>She thought for a moment and decided it wasn’t that she was bothered by it -- simply curious as to <em> why </em>he made it a point to do so. “I just don’t understand,” she said. “I can do everything on my own, you know.”</p><p>“But you shouldn’t have to,” he replied. “Perhaps it’s archaic as hell, but I want to take care of you -- not because I don’t think you can handle it on your own. It’s what two people together do, right?”</p><p>“Yes, but I want to take care of you, too,” she said. “I want this -- whatever ‘this’ is -- to be a two-way street.”</p><p>He smiled faintly. “You can open my door next time then.”</p><p>She imagined darting over to the driver’s side as Sidney waited patiently in his seat for her to usher him out. “How about unlocking Seabreeze instead?”</p><p>“Going back on your offer already, Heywood?”</p><p>“No -- just choosing a more immediate chivalrous act!”</p><p>“Fair enough,” he replied. “Seabreeze it is.”</p><p>She held her hand out, palm up. “Keys, please.”</p><p>He dropped them in her hand as requested.</p><p>The cottage greeted them per usual, the yellow square of light from its window guiding their way up the steps. She unlocked the front door -- or, at least, tried to, as Sidney was wedged behind her and she couldn’t quite make out the keyhole in the dark.</p><p>“Am I in the way?” he asked, teasing.</p><p>“You know you are,” she replied. She didn’t entirely mind his body pressed against hers, but she had a point to make. “Two-way street, I said!”</p><p>A second later, his phone light was turned on and she inserted the key in the lock without issue.</p><p>“Are you hungry?” asked Sidney as soon they crossed the threshold.</p><p>Though they’d eaten not long ago, Charlotte’s stomach perked up at the mention of more food. She was sure what they’d snacked on all the rest of the day was woefully inadequate to their output of calories. Some light fare would do well. “I’m a wee bit peckish,” she said casually, “and more than a wee bit curious to see what Chef Sidney can whip up in the dead of night.”</p><p>The paltry offerings in both the pantry and the fridge limited much of what could be created, but Sidney went bravely forth anyway and, with a lot of creativity and imagination, presented them both with plates of food.</p><p>“It’s not handmade gnocchi and slow-roasted beef, but I think it’ll do,” he said.</p><p>“It looks delicious,” said Charlotte, scooping up her first bite. It <em> was </em>delicious. “Mm. Chef Sidney has proved himself.”</p><p>“I had no choice. Chef Charlotte slayed the first round.”</p><p>“Ha, ha. I know I set the bar extremely high, but I don’t cook like that often. Too busy.”</p><p>“Same here,” he replied. “Sometimes take-away’s all that keeps me going. With that said, we’ll need to go shopping tomorrow or else it’ll be a wedge of cheese for the rest of the week.”</p><p>“I’ll make a list,” said Charlotte, and juggled both her plate and her cellphone as she typed in a few of her and Georgiana’s favorite snacks to start. She made a mental note to ask Sidney what his preferred snacks were later on. “Any idea on what you want to make for Monday's dinner party?”</p><p>They discussed the menu as they cleaned the kitchen. Charlotte washed the pans and plates and utensils as Sidney dried them and put them away.</p><p>“Do you want to move your things into my room?” asked Sidney once they were finished cleaning up.</p><p>“Oh,” she replied, a little surprised. She'd assumed she'd be sleeping with him at night when Georgiana came to stay, but she didn't think she'd be bringing everything, too. “I don’t want to intrude.”</p><p>“If you want your own space, I understand,” he said. “Moving into mine is a bit much.”</p><p>“I’m not planning on tiptoeing down the hallway to your room every night, if that’s what you’re insinuating,” she said. “If you’re amenable, I’d like to stay with you. As for my things... well, I’m a little less organized than you.”</p><p>“You don’t say,” said Sidney, once they reached the guest room and the truth of the matter was fully revealed.</p><p>Charlotte wasn’t at all embarrassed at showing him. Her bed was unmade, and her dirty clothes hamper needed to be taken downstairs, but the worst of her chaos was the makeup brushes and various other items strewn across the vanity. To be fair, she’d had very little time to set everything to rights over the last week. Sidney had, after all, taken up most of her free time.</p><p>“It’s lived in,” she said, setting the cap back on her perfume bottle, “<em>and </em>I'm on holiday. Who tidies up on holiday?”</p><p>She turned around. Sidney was leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed. He was looking at her intently, and she wondered, not for the first time, what he was thinking upon seeing her in her natural habitat.</p><p>“Do I have something on my face?” she asked, teasing.</p><p>“No, but you do this thing when you’re indignant--” He scrunched his nose up here, “--and I find it very… distracting. You’re so very beautiful, Charlotte.”</p><p>She looked away, a part of her wanting to bat the compliment down, but a larger part of her soaking in the pleasant glow of a man such as Sidney Parker believing her to be beautiful.</p><p>“You’re not half bad yourself,” she said, trying and failing to maintain her composure. “If you’re trying to win me over to your side of the cottage, you’re doing a very good job at it. Just so you know.”</p><p>He grinned. “You know my dastardly schemes so well already.”</p><p>She beckoned him closer, smiling as he came eagerly forward. “I could use a little more edification,” she said, “don’t you think?”</p><p>
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</p><p>The rest of the evening proceeded so normally, so naturally, between them: Charlotte did indeed move her things into Sidney’s room and, after another shared shower, they started a load of laundry together -- Charlotte’s favorite panties alongside Sidney’s socks.</p><p>They had nothing left to eat when it was all said and done, so they cracked open a bottle of wine and toasted to their domestic prowess; and, after a glass or two, he whirled them around their makeshift dance floor to a wordless song of their own making.</p><p>Charlotte sighed as they swayed, deliriously happy and utterly content, and so did he; and, for a moment, they were two hearts beating as one under the endless blanket of stars above.</p>
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<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The following morning dawned bright and earlier than Charlotte wished. It was clear Sidney hadn’t meant to disturb her, but even his slow and careful extraction from her hold was enough to wake her, and she rolled away into the pillows with a groan.</p><p>She was <em> tired. </em>Multiple nights of altered sleep patterns and acrobatic sex had finally taken its toll on her, and she had no idea how Sidney had the energy to get up -- and, by the looks of it, change into workout gear.</p><p>“Good morning,” said Sidney once he caught Charlotte looking. He slipped a t-shirt over his head with a faint smirk. “I’m going for a run. Care to join me?”</p><p>“I can barely walk,” she grumbled. Her outer hip muscles were vigorously protesting any and all attempts to sit up, and so she remained comfortably horizontal instead. “If you don’t mind, I’ll continue recuperating while you put all us lesser mortal beings to shame.”</p><p>He sat down on the edge of the bed and gently kneaded her lower back. She let out a pleased hum.</p><p>“My, you <em> are </em>tight, Miss Heywood,” he said. “I wonder how this came to be.”</p><p>She rolled her eyes and swatted at his leg. “I wonder. Now, if you’re done being pleased with yourself...”</p><p>With a grin, he leaned forward and dropped a kiss to her temple. “When I get back, I have a surprise for you.”</p><p>“A surprise?” she asked, interest piqued, but with a cheeky pat to her bottom, Sidney left without further explanation.</p><p>The surprise, as it turned out, would not be revealed until later in the day. Sidney returned from his run, sweaty and shirtless, and refused to tell her what his plans were until after all their errands were completed.</p><p>“You’re the <em> worst</em>,” she said. “Building up my anticipation just to drag it out is-- is-- <em> cruel</em>.”</p><p>The water turned off and he opened the shower door. “Let’s call it foreplay,” he replied.</p><p>Charlotte contemplated not giving him the towel on the counter in retaliation, but a wet, naked Sidney was really more a detriment to her ability to think than anything else. Beyond the Greek God statue aesthetic he had going for him, her mind couldn’t help but skip back to their intense lovemaking every time she saw him without clothes.</p><p>She tossed the towel at him and resolutely kept her eyeline above his upper chest area before her train of thought could completely derail. “Call it whatever you want,” she said tartly, “but the surprise better be good!”</p><p>They left Seabreeze soon after and rode into town on their bicycles. </p><p>It was another sunny day in Sanditon. A gentle breeze clipped over the sloping hill, rustling the grass and the trees as it went. Charlotte tipped her head back to enjoy the sunshine on her face; hands on the handlebars, feet pedaling, it felt like she was flying toward a bright, warm future.</p><p>Their pace was leisurely, and they arrived at the shop along with the normal morning rush. Charlotte and Sidney utilized the bike stand outside -- though they didn’t use locks to secure them, a cardinal sin anywhere else -- and went inside.</p><p>A flash of white and blonde caught Charlotte’s eye as they entered, and she sighed as Sidney stiffened up next to her. It was the woman from last night: the maybe-Mrs. Campion. She was wearing a chic white pantsuit today, somehow making the outfit work despite it being entirely out of place in a casual beach town.</p><p>“Sidney!” she called out, waving and weaving around the shop patrons as she approached them. Again, she ignored Charlotte completely. “Good morning! What a coincidence it is seeing you here.”</p><p>“Good morning,” he replied. His arm drifted around Charlotte’s waist, possessive and purposeful.</p><p>Charlotte didn’t miss the way Mrs. Campion’s eyes narrowed before her expression bounced back with a pleasant, bland smile.</p><p>“And this must be?” Mrs. Campion prompted, clearly only lowering herself to refer to Charlotte now that she was forced to acknowledge her.</p><p>Charlotte glanced up. Sidney looked down. A split second, silent conversation took place between them wherein a more formal term was considered and quickly approved.</p><p>“This is Charlotte Heywood,” he said, “my girlfriend.”</p><p>“Girlfriend!” Mrs. Campion’s laughter bubbled up as if Sidney had just told her the silliest joke. “<em>Girl </em> is right. Darling, you look positively <em> young</em>. I’m envious. Wherever did you two meet?”</p><p>Charlotte was half-tempted to tell her it was at the playground, but that was almost too close to the truth and rather ancient history. Instead, she leaned into Sidney and laid her hand on his chest. “Through a mutual friend,” she said. “Oh! Is your father with you?”</p><p>Sidney’s arm squeezed around her middle. Mrs. Campion’s smile dropped right off.</p><p>“My <em> husband </em>will be joining me later,” Mrs. Campion replied. She didn’t outright glare at Charlotte, but it was a near thing. A second later, as if nothing at all had gone amiss during the conversation, she turned another happy smile Sidney’s way. “Well. Sidney. I’ll see you at the luncheon. Perhaps we may yet run into one another again, and soon. Sanditon is so small.”</p><p>Without leaving any room for further discussion or reply, the confirmed-Mrs. Campion trotted her and her tote bag out from the shop on designer heels. </p><p>The little bells above the door tinkled as it shut.</p><p>“I have never, ever seen someone thirst like that in real life,” Charlotte said, marveling at the ridiculous nature of the exchange that had taken place -- right on the heels of the previous night. She shook her head, still a bit stunned. “It’s like she was trying to be a cartoon villain. Who <em> is </em>she?”</p><p>Sidney grimaced. “I’ll explain after we’ve done the shopping.”</p><p>“I’ll hold you to that,” she said, and they went on with the groceries.</p><p>Of course, that didn’t mean Charlotte wasn’t burning with curiosity the entire time. She was dying to know about Mrs. Campion. She could tell from both encounters that Sidney wasn’t overly fond of her. He shut down, went into business mode, and stiffened up; coupled with the fact that she looked the part of the type of woman Charlotte had always imagined he’d date, it was likely that she was an old flame of some kind.</p><p>Perhaps she should be jealous of a woman so confidently throwing herself at her boyfriend -- a term that felt altogether correct and yet not quite right -- but she couldn’t rightly conjure up the feeling. Sidney had chosen her; and she’d chosen him. It would take a lot more than Mrs. Campion to shake Charlotte’s confidence in them now.</p><p>A time later, they exited the shop with several bags in tow, and they played some real-life Tetris to fit everything into the baskets on their bikes. Job done, they began the ride back to Seabreeze.</p><p>“Mrs. Campion and I went to uni together,” said Sidney, as soon as they passed the downtown marker. He sounded dreadfully nervous. “We dated.”</p><p>“Oh,” she replied. “Is that all?”</p><p>He didn’t reply for a long moment. “I thought you’d be more upset,” he said, finally.</p><p>“Do you still have feelings for her?”</p><p>“No,” he said hurriedly. “God, no.”</p><p>“Then do you plan on acting on her… enthusiasm for you?”</p><p>“Absolutely not,” he said.</p><p>“Then I don’t know what there is to be upset about. In some small way, yes, I wish you would’ve told me about your history with her sooner, but -- you <em> did </em>say ‘all in’ yesterday. I’m assuming ‘all in’ didn’t include a messy affair with a married woman.”</p><p>“I did not. Though I have to tell you I’m rather tethered to civility when it comes to her. Mr. Campion is a big fish on our hook.”</p><p>“A big fish who turns a blind eye to his wife running down Sanditon’s promenade after you?”</p><p>“It’s like that in those circles,” he mused. “Divorce is messy. Affairs are easy. At least, that’s what my friends tell me.”</p><p>She laughed. “How very shocking!”</p><p>“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about her straight away,” he said. “I’m sorrier still that I can’t tell her off.”</p><p>“Well, that’s what I’m here for,” she said, grinning. “That boring old luncheon might prove to be exciting after all.”</p><p>He groaned. “I’m imagining the papers now.”</p><p>“‘Blancmange in her Burberry: Catfight of the Century’. Or maybe, ‘Willingden Woman Squares Off with Wannabe Meredith Blake’?”</p><p>“I’m about to ride myself down this hill and into the sea, Charlotte.”</p><p>
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</p><p>They made it back to Seabreeze, unpacked their bags, and made breakfast. </p><p>Even after all this and a lot of prodding on Charlotte’s part, Sidney still did not divulge what the surprise was.</p><p>“It defeats the purpose if I tell you beforehand,” he said, and his resolve remained firm, even as he put them back on bicycles and led them out on another ride -- though this time they went up and away from Sanditon.</p><p>A time later, they came to the crossroads they had passed the day they’d gone cliff jumping. Instead of turning toward the beach, they went up, pedaling further and further away from the seaside town. </p><p>Immediately, Charlotte knew exactly where they were going.</p><p>Docent Sidney returned in full measure as soon as they cleared the hill and rounded the path. A gabled roof of a house could be seen off in the distance, peeking through the trees, and, as if on cue, Sidney began the tour: “Parker House is the oldest home in the Parker family. Generations of them had been born, raised, and laid to rest there -- the most notable is Tom Parker, who is credited with founding Historical Sanditon as we know it in 1818…”</p><p>Yet again, Charlotte could see why tourists would clamor for Sidney Parker. He was intelligent, charismatic, and could weave a story like no one’s business. As he spoke, she saw the gentlemen in their curricles racing through the valley. She saw the carriages, one by one, coming down the thoroughfare. He asked her to imagine a little Tom Parker with larger than life dreams, and, as they pulled up to Parker House, she could’ve sworn she saw a little boy running through the kept gardens to the well house. She shivered.</p><p>“Surprise,” he said softly. “Diana gave me the keys this morning.”</p><p>“Worth the wait,” she replied, thoroughly charmed. They left their conveyances kicked up on the path, and Charlotte followed Sidney down the gravel driveway. A few signs were posted here and there, welcoming them and asking them kindly to be mindful of the gardens, grass, and fixtures. “This is incredible!”</p><p>“Arthur and Di shut down the Parker House tour for the archivist last year,” he replied. “Along the way, we discovered a fair bit of damage; nothing structural, thankfully, but enough that we couldn’t re-open afterward without further compromise. Hiring a team to preserve, rather than refurbish, a place such as this is… rather expensive.”</p><p>“Is the trust not able to…?”</p><p>He shook his head. “Parker House was never signed over. It’s all private. I’m sure there’s a way we could convert, but with the repairs required… well, it doesn’t have quite enough historical significance to make it worth it, I’m afraid.”</p><p>Charlotte signed. She understood the trials and tribulations of bureaucracy, working in the non-profit sector as she did, and she could understand what Sidney was saying. Though the founder of Sanditon had been born and raised in Parker House, the draw wouldn’t be quite enough to draw in the revenue required to pay for preservation, year after year, without outside assistance. “That’s too bad,” she said.</p><p>“I agree,” he said. “I’ve considered investing myself but the place is, for lack of a better term, a complete and utter money pit.”</p><p>“And selling it isn’t an option,” she surmised.</p><p>“One day, it might have to be,” he said. “But, for now, it’ll remain with us.”</p><p>The house wasn’t overly large, but it nonetheless spoke of the Parker family’s centuries of wealth. It had two stories, with large glass windows set into its stone face; vines crept up over the edifice here and there, but the sprawl seemed more decorative than derelict. The main building was surrounded by trees and flowering bushes, and she could see what would have been the mews or stables further down the drive behind the house.</p><p>They entered through the front door which was, according to Sidney, “Built wide enough to allow for the dress panniers that would have been the style of the time during its construction.”</p><p>Charlotte spread her arms out. She could barely brush the edges of the doorframe with her fingertips. “The things women were asked to do for fashion,” she lamented. “Lead in their makeup, wigs, corsets and stays… actually, now that I’m thinking about it, nothing has really changed, after all.”</p><p>The rest of the tour went more casually. Sidney stood back as Charlotte looked about and came forward only to answer questions as they arose. The home was incredibly well-kept and stood as a true testament to Arthur and Diana’s efforts to keep the place running over the years.</p><p>“It’s a shame Parker House isn’t open to the public anymore,” she said, finally turning into the family room. Any further thought of the public missing out was rapidly replaced with excitement for there, sitting in a bath of golden light, was a pianoforte.</p><p>Sidney made his way over before she could ask, and made a grand show of cracking his knuckles and sweeping back an imaginary coattail as he sat on the bench. “I don’t normally take requests,” he said, tapping a key, “but for you, Miss Heywood, I’ll make an exception.”</p><p>“Freebird!”</p><p>He raised an eyebrow and dropped his fingers to play a flat chord. “Anything else?”</p><p>She booed. “This guy sucks! Get him out of here!”</p><p>“Don’t shoot me, I’m only the piano player!” he called back, and she joined him at the bench as he dove into a very adept pianoforte version of the Crocodile Rock.</p><p>That’s where they stayed: Sidney regaling her with tales of many Sanditon Christmases past, the entire Parker clan gathered around the piano in the drawing room, decked out in old Regency dress and singing songs that would have given everyone vapors two-hundred years previous. </p><p>Eventually, the concert drew to an end and they moved on. The drawing room was a veritable cornucopia of all things Parker. There was an old portrait above the fireplace mantle he insisted was his forebear, though it looked nothing at all like him.</p><p>She tilted her head this way and that. “I still don’t see it.”</p><p>He showed her the old family album next, and holding back her sniggers at seeing Sidney with long, flowing hair was near impossible. He was wearing a top hat and a cravat, looking holier-than-thou next to Arthur, Diana… and someone she now knew would have been their eldest brother Tom.</p><p>“Never knew how good I had it until I didn’t,” he said, a little sadly. “I miss him.”</p><p>Charlotte’s heart wanted to crack open. This soft, vulnerable Sidney was breaking her apart little by little. “Maybe…” She hesitated for a moment. “Maybe you can memorialize him somehow? Perhaps plant a tree on the property?”</p><p>“Tom was never as steady in life as he’d wished to be,” said Sidney. His brows furrowed together. “Sanditon was his one great love, though the world beyond always called to him… It would be fitting that he’d remain here forever, a sturdy presence, casting his shadow on the place he always wished to return to. Yes… I think that’s a great idea, Charlotte.”</p><p>They shared a smile.</p><p>The rest of the early afternoon was spent touring the grounds, and they headed back to Seabreeze with food on their minds and stomachs growling. Charlotte made a salad with the fresh greens they’d purchased earlier that day, and they ate on the terrace. </p><p>After clearing both their plates and the table, they made their way back to the terrace to enjoy the sun and sea.</p><p>“Thank you for sharing Parker House with me,” she said. “I’ve toured a few historical buildings in my day, but I can’t say I ever had such a doting docent.”</p><p>“You’re welcome,” he replied. His arm was slung low around her back as she cuddled up next to him. “And what about your family then? How are they?”</p><p>“They’re good. Haven’t talked to them in a bit, though I know I should,” she said. Normally, she did not like sharing the personal aspects of her family drama, but Sidney looked at her with no judgment and that was all the encouragement she needed to continue. “My parents love me, but I think they were… a little disappointed in how everything fell out for me. Out of wedlock pregnancy, the shotgun wedding, the divorce -- plus, I wasn’t very pleasant to be around for a while. Mum usually dolls out unwanted advice while dad listens and I haven’t the headspace for it these days.”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he said. “Genuinely. I can’t imagine.”</p><p>“It’s alright,” she said. “I’m very close to my younger sister Alison, but she’s abroad for the rest of the year. The boys are teenagers now, and so I’m considered both geriactric <em> and </em>uncool… We communicate through Snapchat and GIFs.”</p><p>He hummed. “Hashtags and memes?”</p><p>“Yup. I know I’m not old,” she said, “but they make me feel like I’m dodging coffins. Urban Dictionary is my greatest ally.”</p><p>“Well, fuck,” he sighed. “What does that make me?”</p><p>“A relic of a bygone era.”</p><p>“My hip <em> has </em>been hurting lately,” he mused. “Though I suspect the cause is excessive exertion and not these old bones.”</p><p>She gave him a look. “I don’t know why I bother with you.”</p><p>He winked. “I rather think you do.”</p><p>
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</p><p>Any retort she might’ve given was lost to his kiss soon enough. The urgency to take the moment further -- or upstairs -- simmered under the surface between them, but Charlotte was content to remain tangled in his arms, drinking in his affection for as long as she could in the open air.</p><p>Soon enough, the urgency shifted so that it could no longer be ignored. They went upstairs to their shared room and undressed one another in the fading light of day. Charlotte pressed him back into the sheets. She straddled him and took him in hand before settling down onto him with a bitten-off moan. As always, he felt incredible inside of her. She hoped she never stopped feeling this way with him. His hands settled on her hips, and she set them on a slow, rocking pace.</p><p>Time melted away and the sun waned. She rode him like this, trembling and yet unhurried, until she couldn’t hold back any longer. She crested over the edge with a sweet sigh, hardly believing that she could come without further stimulation even as she shivered and tightened around him.</p><p>“Charlotte,” Sidney gasped her name as she floated down from her temporary high, and their eyes locked.</p><p>An intense pleasure beyond the physical began to build up inside of her as they continued to move together.</p><p>She didn’t know how she knew, but she did: Sidney Parker had been the puzzle piece she’d been missing to complete her heart after all these years. Perhaps it was the sum of the whole; the little things between them adding up, but the way she felt was inexplicable, unexplainable, and ultimately, inevitable. It was far too soon to speak the sentiment into existence, but the look in his eyes as he drew her down told her she was in safe hands, and would be for the rest of her days, if she so wished.</p><p>And she did.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>just a little bit more to go before we reach the for real end. :'(</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 18</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Dear Reader,</p><p>I 'wrote' this story in my head as I drove 3 days from WA to IL state. I had intended for it to be a little 10k short story as I worked on <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25433296/chapters/61682890">Unstoppable</a>, but it took off, and grew and grew, and here we are.</p><p>Thank you for coming along this ride with me. I never expected for this story to grow as big as it did, nor did I expect to produce a near-novel length story in a little over 30 days. All of your comments, kudos, and love along the way has meant more to me than you can ever know. Writing 'Single' got me through a really tough month in my life, and I am so thankful for the connections I made with you all along the way.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Monday came to Seabreeze, and so did Georgiana and Otis.</p><p>Sidney took them all out to the cliffs and they spent hours taking turns climbing up the hill and plunging into the ocean. The waves were gentle and the weather held, and the group returned to the cottage for an afternoon of drinking and eating in high spirits.</p><p>Sidney and Charlotte cooked dinner, stepping around one another in front of the stovetop and counter like they’d been doing it for years, and served the meal on the terrace along with a bottle of wine. The salt air and sunshine lent to another picturesque afternoon, and they all eagerly tucked in.</p><p>After the main course had been devoured, Georgiana and Charlotte remained outside while Sidney and Otis went indoors to chat. Techno-financial babble floated out into the night, and Charlotte dreaded the day when the terms would become secondary to her -- or, heaven forbid, a part of her daily vernacular.</p><p>“So,” said Georgiana. She took a sip of her wine. “You and Sidney are disgustingly cute together. I almost feel bad for staying back.”</p><p>“Please don’t,” Charlotte replied. “Sidney and I have spent plenty of time together. This trip was supposed to be for you and I anyway.”</p><p>“Mmhm. That was before you two hooked up -- and before Otis’ surprise arrival. Which, by the way, I still owe you for,” she said. “Anything you want to do these last seven days, I’m in.”</p><p>She hummed. “I haven’t much planned, to be honest, but there’s an antique shop I’ve been meaning to visit.”</p><p>“Antiquing? Love it. I’ll find us the oldest, ugliest thing on the market,” she said gamely. “Just us, or--?”</p><p>“I’m not sure,” she said. “I’ll talk with him tonight. Do you care either way?”</p><p>“No, but he might.” Georgiana raised her eyebrows and said, jokingly, “Should he and I pull straws so we can evenly split our time with you?”</p><p>“I’m sure we can find a way without,” she said. “Though knowing my luck, we’ll be strolling down the prom and run into Mrs. Campion again--”</p><p>Georgiana froze. “Campion?”</p><p>Charlotte’s eyebrows ticked up. “Do you know her?”</p><p>“Do I know her? God, I wish I didn’t. She’s the wretched witch of the westside who completely enabled Sidney’s spiral after--” There came an abrupt halt in Georgiana’s speech, and a beat of silence hung between them. “After everything,” she finished lamely.</p><p>“G, I know you never told Sidney about my mess, and that you returned the favor for him,” she said. “While we might’ve come to a mutual truce sooner than we came to it naturally, I’m glad it fell out the way it did. It would’ve been… different… otherwise. And if you don’t want to tell me about your brush with Mrs. Campion, I understand that, too.”</p><p>“It’s strange, I know, but… I always felt like it wasn’t my place to tell his shit; since I thought if I told you <em> his </em> shit, I’d have to tell him <em> yours </em> to be fair to both parties, and I didn’t want to cross wires and muck it all up.”</p><p>“You didn’t muck it up,” she replied. “If anything, you were the perfect enabler.”</p><p>“A little cottage getaway during the summer is the perfect place for romance, right?”</p><p>“It is,” Charlotte agreed, and, after a moment’s hesitation, sketched out the first week of their arrival to Sanditon and her stay at Seabreeze: Mary’s Cove, the dinner, her date with James Stringer, her hook-up with Sidney, and all that had come since. She modified the explicit bits, of course, but she was nevertheless blushing as the tale came to an end. “Was that too much information?”</p><p>Georgiana blew out a breath. “Holy shit. I mean -- ew, it’s Sidney, but also, go Charlotte! I always said nothing ever happened in Sanditon, but you two’ve proved me very, very wrong.”</p><p>“Us two? Look at you and Otis -- engaged!”</p><p>Georgiana sighed, and lifted her hand up. Even in the sunset hours, her ring sparkled and twinkled. “I still can’t believe it,” she sighed.</p><p>“I can,” she replied. “Otis is crazy about you.”</p><p>Together, they mooned over the ring. The sound of the ocean, the salt air, and their talk of love lent to a very romantic mood, and Charlotte couldn’t help but look through the open double doors into Seabreeze: Sidney was leant against the counter, listening intently as Otis spoke animatedly next to him. As if by magic, his gaze shifted and their eyes met. His smiled softly, and she answered in kind.</p><p>“Well, since the evil cat is out of the bag,” said Georgiana, breaking the moment and calling Charlotte’s attention back to her present location, “how much did Sidney tell you about Mrs. Campion?”</p><p>“That they’d dated in uni,” she said. A thought occurred to her then that hadn’t before. “He’d mentioned a girlfriend leaving him after his brother Tom passed away… and that he’d gotten into a lot of trouble in the years that followed.”</p><p>“Ugh. That’s the one. Still gives me shivers thinking about her. She’s the literal <em> worst, </em> Charlotte. She broke it off with him right after getting him into coke and introducing him to some fucking <em> horrible </em>people,” she replied. “She split, and we had to pick up the pieces. The last I heard was that she married some old billionaire whose daughter is the same age as her--”</p><p>Charlotte choked. “Jesus.”</p><p>“--Cannot help her,” she said. “So she’s back in Sanditon… D’you know why?”</p><p>“There’s a luncheon Sidney’s firm is hosting. Mr. Campion is the ‘big fish,’ while Mrs. Campion’s fishing for someone new. Or… <em> old</em>, I guess.”</p><p>“Well, fuck that and fuck her.”</p><p>“I don’t normally hate anyone on principal, but -- hear, hear.”</p><p>They clinked wine glasses.</p><p>The night came to an early end with Otis scheduled for a flight the next day, and Charlotte and Sidney waved to the newly engaged couple from Seabreeze’s porch as they backed out in Georgiana’s car and drove off into the night.</p><p>As they cleaned up, Charlotte stewed in her newfound information regarding Mrs. Campion and Sidney. She put the dishes away, more than a little distracted, which Sidney soon noticed.</p><p>“What’s wrong?” he asked.</p><p>Charlotte considered blowing off the question, or telling him that nothing was wrong, but the thought of doing either didn't sit entirely right. “Georgiana told me a little more about your background with Mrs. Campion,” she said. “That she was the girlfriend who left after Tom.”</p><p>He let out a deep exhale.</p><p>“For the record, I’m still not upset you didn’t tell me more,” she said, and went to hold his hand to show she was serious. She met his gaze squarely on. “I know it’s not easy to talk about the past. And I’m sure seeing her hasn’t helped.”</p><p>“No, it hasn’t,” he agreed. “I never meant to diminish Eliza’s role in my life, or hide what she was from you, but -- seeing her reminds me of the times I want to forget. And I can’t tell her to fuck off, which is almost worse, and she doesn’t seem to understand that a few wild nights for her ended up as a few shit years for me.”</p><p>“I can imagine,” she said. She squeezed her hand around his. “Isn’t it strange how we humans can experience the same event, and yet come out on the other side with completely different perspectives? There’s no doubt in my mind my ex tells everyone he meets that I was some variation of a ‘hellish woman’ bent on ruining his life… and I suppose, for Mrs. Campion, you’re the uni flame she wants to rekindle.”</p><p>“While we sit, a little worse of wear, because of them,” he murmured.</p><p>“No,” she said, perhaps a little too fiercely than warranted. “We are not damaged goods. <em> You </em>are not damaged goods. Maybe we’ve a few jagged edges here and there, but I think we fit perfectly well together, don’t we? That’s what counts. The more I get to know you, the you in the here and now, the more I like you; but that was never not an option for me, not liking you. For every stage of my life, you’ve been there, and I’ve been crazy about you in each one. The most recent iteration might’ve started out ‘crazy angry’ but… I think the situation’s much improved since. I don’t care about your past except that it’s a part of you, and therefore worth knowing. I’m all in, too, Sidney.”</p><p>The tension in his shoulders melted away, and he pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head. “Thank you,” he whispered into her hair.</p><p>They inhaled together and exhaled as one.</p><p><br/>
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</p><p>The rest of the evening was spent sharing easy kisses and easier conversation on the terrace. The lazy lull of summer days set them adrift, and Charlotte thought she could spend the rest of the night under the open sky, but the winds picked up and a light drizzle began to fall.</p><p>Shivering and laughing, they ascended the stairs, pulling off their damp clothes as they went; naked and in Sidney’s bed, the usual heat between them built, and Charlotte sighed when Sidney entered her with a slow thrust, his body curving over hers, their hands linked above her head. She rode the wave of pleasure that passed so easily between them, moaning into his mouth as he kissed her, the words she dared not speak aloud caught in her throat.</p><p>Afterward, they lied tangled together in the afterglow, the dark blanketing them.</p><p>His hand swept up and down her back, a light, comforting touch. “You said you were crazy about me, always,” he said. His voice was low, nearly a whisper.</p><p>“Yes. Skinny arms, spots; blond hair; long and dark. Top hat or beach shorts.” She tipped her head back to look at him. “There isn’t a version of you I didn’t like. Even Mean Sidney.”</p><p>He snorted. “Mean Sidney?”</p><p>“Alright, it was actually ‘Dickbag Sidney’. But there was Nice Sidney, who I’m starting to realize is <em> actually </em>nice… Docent Sidney… the list goes on and on, really-- ah!”</p><p>She yelped as he rolled them over, and placed her solidly under him. His hips pressed into hers, and she shifted against him, heart thumping.</p><p>“And which version of myself am I now?” he asked. There was a familiar heat in his eyes, and a deviousness to his smile, and Charlotte decided to keep this version of him all to herself. She looped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss.</p><p>There was so much left to be said, but they had time in spades to say it all, now, and whatever worry for the future she’d had was washed away by the nighttime rain.</p><p><br/>
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</p><p>Whereas the first seven days in Sanditon drifted slowly by, the last seven picked up speed and did not let off for a single second.</p><p>Otis left for Seattle, and Georgiana came to stay at Seabreeze. On Tuesday, they went to the beach, and spent, perhaps, just as many hours lathering sunblock on themselves as they did sunbathing. That same night, they met up with a group of Sidney’s friends who still lived in or near town, and he introduced Charlotte to everyone with her newfound title; and the more he said it, the better the word sounded to them both.</p><p>Her and Georgiana went antiquing Wednesday morning, and then Sidney joined them later for another round at The Folly, which was still as loud and gaudy as ever; and a surprisingly hungover-free Thursday was spent paddleboarding in the little inlet of Mary’s Cove.</p><p>They cooked and cleaned and made merry, and every night, Charlotte fell into Sidney’s arms.</p><p>Between all this, they spoke of London; navigating the way ahead by exchanging information and addresses, every word carving out the shape of one another in their respective lives; little by little, the dread of their future waned, until it was no longer dread at all, but excitement for things to come.</p><p><br/>
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</p><p>Charlotte woke the morning of the investors’ luncheon determined to elevate Sidney’s schmoozing ability. While she’d never gone to extravagant galas and the like, her work in the nonprofit world had lent her the ability to kiss ass with the best of them -- though, in this case, the brunt of the elbow-rubbing would be left to Sidney, as her role was to play distractor when the brown-nosing became too much.</p><p>But as the morning hours ticked by and the time to leave was nearly upon them, Charlotte realized she was actually quite… <em> nervous </em>. For one, she was the new girlfriend. For two, Mrs. Campion had unwittingly reminded Charlotte that she was, in fact, a bit younger than Sidney. For three, Mrs. Campion would be there, period.</p><p>Though she’d dressed nicely, it wasn’t the magazine-cover ready clothes Charlotte was sure she’d find at the luncheon; she hadn’t the money to spend thousands on a single outfit and even if she did, she wouldn’t want to. Even so, facing off with a room full of people who could, and did, and would perhaps judge those who did not, made her old feelings of inadequacy rise afresh.</p><p>By the time she realized she’d walked and talked herself into a corner, Sidney was unavailable -- on the phone with a man he kept calling ‘Babbers’ -- and so she went to spitball her nerves elsewhere.</p><p>She found Georgiana on the terrace outside, and said, “I’m freaking out.”</p><p>Georgiana sat up. She tipped her sunglasses down over the bridge of her nose; a huge, wide-brimmed floppy hat sat over her head. Though Sidney had invited her to come along -- perhaps as further fortification against the perils of blancmange -- Georgiana had said she’d rather be anywhere else but with the rich toadies, and had changed into her swimsuit and hadn’t budged from her spot since the early morning hours. “What? Why? Did Sidney say something stupid?” she asked.</p><p>“No, but this luncheon-- I don’t know what to expect. Should I… I don’t know, play it dumb?”</p><p>Georgiana goggled at her. “Play it dumb? You?” </p><p>“Yeah,” said Charlotte, shrugging. “Like -- Sidney’s arm-candy or some such.”</p><p>Georgiana sat up. “Is that what you <em> think </em>Sidney wants you to do, or--?”</p><p>“No, but Mrs. Campion will be there,” she said awkwardly, “and as much of a cartoon villain the woman is, she’s very… posh. I’m feeling a little young and, well, trashy.”</p><p>“I don’t even want to touch this ‘young and trashy’ talk, but: you are a boss babe, whip-smart, and Sidney is lucky to have you by his side. And if anyone has anything nasty to say, toss your breakfast champagne in their face and watch them melt.”</p><p>The reassurance did the trick, and Charlotte laughed a little. “I woke up this morning thinking I’d be the one keeping Sidney on the straight and narrow, and yet that doesn’t seem to be the case at all,” she said.</p><p>“We all need a little boost sometimes,” she replied. “Now, go on and knock them dead.”</p><p>Not a minute later, Sidney came to get her, and they were off.</p><p>They arrived right on schedule, and Charlotte was led around and introduced, and she soon discovered she wasn’t half as bad at schmoozing as she thought. Her and Sidney were a formidable team -- their years’ worth of banter smoothing the way as they riffed off one another; a few compliments here and a self-deprecating remark there, and she could almost ignore the not-so-sly remarks dropped her way... until it was their turn to address the Campions.</p><p>“Sidney, so wonderful to see you again,” Mrs. Campion said, smiling. It turned brittle and forced as she looked at Charlotte. “I see you’ve brought your… girlfriend.”</p><p>For a moment, Charlotte contemplated taking Georgiana’s advice and tossing her too-dry champagne in Mrs. Campion’s face. “He did,” she said instead, “and I’m stood right here, and I’d appreciate you talking to me as if I were.”</p><p>Perhaps Mrs. Campion was not used to anyone speaking to her in such a fashion as a look of mild shock flitted across her face; and if she’d been expected Mr. Campion to come to her defense, she was thoroughly disappointed, for he did naught but chortle at the situation.</p><p>“Quite right, Miss Heywood,” Mr. Campion said. “Beth, don’t you remember meeting Miss Heywood?”</p><p>At this, Mrs. Campion looked at her husband with barely-restrained contempt, and Charlotte allowed herself a sliver of sympathy for the woman. Even if Eliza had made the bed she currently lied in, it was clear she was a terribly unhappy person and fed off the distress of others to make herself feel one iota better. It was not a life Charlotte wished on anyone, and she leaned into Sidney’s side as shop talk began, and Mrs. Campion was summarily dismissed by all parties involved.</p><p>The mingling continued, and Charlotte was introduced to so many people that their faces and names soon blended into one homogeneous blob in her mind.</p><p>A time later, Sidney was tapped on the shoulder and pulled away.</p><p>“I have to step away,” he told Charlotte when he came back; a few harried-looking gents stood off to the side, clearly waiting for Sidney to follow them. “Nothing serious, but there’s an issue--”</p><p>She touched his elbow. “It’s fine, Sidney. But tell me one thing: is the blancmange safe?”</p><p>With a grin and a kiss, he was off, and Charlotte was left on her own. She floated around the room, but it was quickly apparent that her previous inclusion had only been tolerated due to Sidney’s presence: it seemed as if the entire party had made a collective decision to turn their backs to her as she walked by. Mrs. Campion was nowhere to be found.</p><p>Charlotte found temporary refuge by a pillar, but she was soon joined by another woman. Her dark hair was pulled back into a twist, and a light touch of makeup enhanced her kind eyes and wide smile.</p><p>“Rather tedious affair, isn’t it?” the woman remarked, and Charlotte was so shocked someone had talked to her first that the woman gave a little laugh. “And now you’re going to tell me you’re with the foundation, and I’ve insulted you terribly.”</p><p>Charlotte’s wits quickly returned to her. “I am neither with the foundation nor offended,” she said, a little unsure of her position in the first remark yet very secure in the second. “I’m Charlotte. Charlotte Heywood.”</p><p>“Susan,” the woman replied, and they shook hands. “So what brings you to the luncheon, Charlotte?”</p><p>“I’m the plus-one. Yourself?”</p><p>It turned out Susan was an investor, but she was the type of person whose talent was easily flipping the conversation, and she focused wholly on Charlotte, asking little questions here and there. Something in Susan’s manner set Charlotte at ease, and soon she was telling this stranger all about her most recent Sanditon holiday and how she’d found herself at the luncheon right out -- with necessary edits, of course. It <em> was </em>a lunch affair, after all.</p><p>“Oh my,” said Susan. “Dear girl, it sounds like you’ve fallen in love with this Sidney fellow -- or well on your way to doing so.”</p><p>She blushed. “It’s too soon.”</p><p>“What is ‘too soon’? A day, a week, a year? I’m a firm believer in ‘when you know, you know,’ and my gut tells me you do… and I’ll have you know, Charlotte, that I’m rarely wrong in such matters.”</p><p>The rest of the luncheon passed easily now that Charlotte had made a friend, and when Sidney returned after seeing to the non-blancmange-related emergency, Susan left them with a kiss to Charlotte’s cheek and knowing wink.</p><p>“Oh, she was so lovely,” Charlotte told Sidney, watching Susan disappear into the crowd.</p><p>Sidney did not reply for a long moment, and when she looked up, saw that he was wearing a look that could only be described as <em> befuddled</em>. “What is it?” she asked.</p><p>He blinked down at her. “Charlotte, I think you just befriended the Countess of Worcester.”<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>In the end, Susan -- who was indeed Lady Worcester -- was absolutely right, and Charlotte and Sidney’s return to real life was only the beginning of the rest of their lives and a lot more love than either of them thought they were capable of giving or receiving.</p><p>Two months after their most recent Sanditon summer, Sidney asked Charlotte to move into Bedford Place with him, and she said yes.</p><p>The two years that followed were filled with the normal ups and downs of any relationship, especially considering the two stubborn people said relationship contained -- but the good always, always, outweighed the bad, and when Sidney next asked for forever, the answer was simple, and easy, and forever it was.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm sure I will come back to 'Single Summer Sidlotte' one day; I already have a few ideas for where to take them, including said 'ups and downs'.</p><p>With that said, the time has come to say goodbye to summer in Sanditon and 'this' version of Sidlotte. I hope it was enjoyable for you as I was for me. ;)</p><p>~</p><p>Credit to MissTMA for some words of wisdom of the good outweighing the bad in relationships which was the cherry on top of that very last sentence. &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/68x9IPGxps3n8EZRlWgtQk?si=c0QDkjbORVOsSY6gLUOSJw">the official 'single for the summer' playlist is here if you'd like to listen along as you read</a>
</p></blockquote></div></div>
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